it possibly be Uncle Aaron?" asked Teddy, his pulses quickened by
the possibility.

"I shouldn't be a bit surprised," rejoined Ross. "There can't be so many
Aaron Rushtons in this part of the country. This man lived, at that time
in Medford, not far from Boston."

"That's just where Uncle Aaron used to live!" broke in Fred. "He has
some property there yet, although lately he spends a good deal of the
time with us in Oldtown."

"Would you know his handwriting, if you saw it?" asked Ross, feeling in
his pocket.

"Sure we would!" answered Fred. "We've seen it a hundred times."

"Take a look at that then," said Ross, taking a wrinkled sheet of paper
from a collection wrapped in oiled silk and held together by a rubber
band, "and see if it's your uncle's writing."

Fred unfolded the paper with hands that trembled with excitement, while
Teddy looked over his shoulder.

It was a brief note, dated fifteen years before, acknowledging the
receipt of three hundred and sixty dollars, being the semi-annual
interest on notes given by Mr. Montgomery. It had been written from
Medford, and it bore the stiff precise signature of Aaron Rushton.

"That's Uncle Aaron's writing!" exclaimed Fred. "I can't be mistaken."

"It sure is," echoed Teddy. "I'd know it among a thousand."

"Well, what do you think of that?" chimed in Bill, as he and Lester
crowded around to look.

It gave the boys a queer thrill to think of all that had been pressed
into the years between the time that note was written and the present.
It seemed like a link between the living and the dead. The man who had
received it was in his grave, and the one who had sent it had long since
given up all hope of hearing of the matter again. And now chance had
brought together the son of one and the nephews of the other on this
stormy night on the seacoast, and they sat tracing out the faded lines
by the flickering light of the brush fire.

Fred sat back and drew a long breath.

"Do you remember what Dave Parloe said--that it was a small world after
all?" he asked Bill. "I know now that he was right."

"To think that it was you who saved my life this afternoon, and that it
was your uncle who helped my father when he was in business trouble!"
exclaimed Ross. "I feel that I owe you more than ever now. You see, Mr.
Aaron Rushton lent part of the twelve thousand dollars to father when he
started into business in Canada."

"Just think of Uncle Aaron's doing a thing like