ush. I suppose you mean to give me your note, payable
when the Kennebec dries up."

"Cash on the nail," replied Bobby. "You look like a man with a heart
in your bosom,"--Bobby stole this passage from "The Wayfarer."

"I reckon I have. The time hasn't come yet when Sam Ray could see a
fellow-creature in distress and not help him out. But to help a thief
off----"

"We will argue that matter," interposed Bobby. "I can prove to you
beyond a doubt that I am innocent of the crime charged upon me."

"You don't look like a bad boy, I must say."

"But, Mr. Ray, I'm hungry; I haven't eaten a mouthful since yesterday
noon."

"Thunder! You don't say so!" exclaimed Sam Ray. "I never could bear to
see a man hungry, much more a boy; so come along to my house and get
something to eat, and we will talk about the other matter afterwards."

Sam Ray took Bobby to the little old house in which he dwelt; and in a
short time his wife, who expressed her sympathy for the little
fugitive in the warmest terms, had placed an abundant repast upon the
table. Our hero did ample justice to it, and when he had finished he
felt like a new creature.

"Now, Mr. Ray, let me tell you my story," said Bobby.

"I don't know as it's any use. Now you have eat my bread and butter, I
don't feel like being mean to you. If anybody else wants to carry you
back, they may; I won't."

"But you shall hear me;" and Bobby proceeded to deliver his "plain,
unvarnished tale."

When he had progressed but a little way in the narrative, the noise of
an approaching vehicle was heard. Sam looked out of the window, as
almost everybody does in the country when a carriage passes.

"By thunder! It's the Reform School wagon!" exclaimed he. "This way,
boy!" and the good-hearted man thrust him into his chamber, bidding
him get under the bed.

The carriage stopped at the house; but Sam evaded a direct reply, and
the superintendent--for it was he--proceeded on his search.

"Heaven bless you, Mr. Ray!" exclaimed Bobby, when he came out of the
chamber, as the tears of gratitude coursed down his cheeks.

"O, you will find Sam Ray all right," said he, warmly pressing Bobby's
proffered hand. "I ain't quite a heathen, though some folks around
here think so."

"You are an angel!"

"Not exactly," laughed Sam.

Our hero finished his story, and confirmed it by exhibiting his
account book and some other papers which he had retained. Sam Ray was
satisfied, and vowed that if eve