I don't want any money for what I have
done. I am not entitled to any pilot's fees."

"Yes you are, just as much entitled to them as though you had a warrant
or a branch. Now go to your hotel, and have everything ready for us as
quick as you can. We are wet and cold, and we want good fires,"
continued Mr. Hamilton.

"But this money--"

"Don't stop another moment, my boy," interrupted the rich merchant. "If
your father's hotel is as good as you say it is, we may stay there a
week."

Under this imperative order, Leopold thrust the bills into his pocket,
and leaped into the Rosabel. He had anchored the Orion off the wharf, in
the deep water in the middle of the river, so that her boats could
conveniently reach the landing-steps near the fish market. Hoisting his
mainsail and jib, he stood down the river.

"Come and help us get on shore!" shouted Mr. Hamilton, as the Rosabel
was disappearing in the fog. "We can't find the wharf."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied Leopold.

In a few moments he had anchored the sloop at her usual moorings,
secured the sails very hastily, and was climbing the steep path to the
road. In spite of the pride which had prompted him to refuse it, the
pilot's fee was a godsend to him, or, rather, to his father, for he
determined to give the money to him immediately. He took the bills from
his pocket, and found there were three ten-dollar notes. His heart
leaped with emotion when he remembered what his father said--that he had
not seen twenty dollars at one time for a month. The landlord actually
needed the money to make purchases for the comfort of his new guests.

Leopold was almost beside himself with joy, and he rushed up the steep,
rocky path without regard to the proper expenditure of his breath.
Puffing like a grampus, he reached the road, and then ran with all his
might, as if the Sea Cliff House was on fire. He rushed into the office,
and flew about the house like a madman. His father was nowhere to be
seen; but he spent only a moment in looking for him, and then darted out
into the wood-shed. Filling a bushel basket with wood, chips, and
shavings, he carried it into the big parlor, and lighted a tremendous
fire in the Franklin stove. Another was made in the large corner
apartment up stairs, with two bed-rooms _en suite_, which he always
called Mr. Hamilton's room. He piled on the wood with no niggardly hand
upon these, and four other fires he kindled in as many of the best rooms
in the house