staggered Sandy, and he concluded to stay and see
the end of the wicked enterprise. The house of Mr. Batterman was at a
considerable distance from the barn, and there was but little danger
that the humane policy of the young incendiaries would expose them to
any additional peril.

Richard, followed by Sandy, entered the barn, and turned all the
animals loose. They drove them into a lot where they could not get near
the fire. The only thing that had weighed upon the mind of the broker's
son, in the prosecution of his mad enterprise, was now removed, and he
returned to the place where he had prepared the materials for starting
the conflagration. Again Sandy stated his objections, and urged Richard
to abandon the scheme; but the latter, without any reply to this
remonstrance, drew a card of matches across a stone, and applied the
burning mass to the hay which had been saturated with turpentine.

The heap of combustible matter suddenly blazed up, lighting all the
fields around them. The work had been surely done, and it was too late
for Sandy to urge any more of his objections.

"Come, Sandy, the work is done. Now use your legs," said Richard, as he
started at the top of his speed towards the inlet where the Greyhound
lay.

Sandy's legs did not fail him on this emergency, for he soon
outstripped his companion. They had gone but a few rods, when both were
appalled at the discovery of two men, who were running towards the fire
with all their might--which was not saying much, for both of them
seemed to be old and stiff, and incapable of making very good time even
on so pressing an emergency as the present.

The guilty boys were filled with terror. The shock was so great that it
seemed to deprive them of their strength, and they found their legs
giving out under them.

"We are caught, Dick," gasped Sandy, when he could regain breath enough
to speak.

"No, we are not; come along. Don't stop here," answered Richard, who
was beginning to recover his self-possession.

They ran as fast as their weakened limbs would permit, till they
reached the bank of the river. Richard jumped into the boat and hoisted
the sails, while Sandy cast off the painter, and they were soon
standing out from the shore before the fresh breeze. Neither of them
spoke for some minutes, for neither of them had breath enough left in
his body to do so.

"The fire don't burn," said Richard, when the boat had gone far enough
to enable him to see over th