ore than fairly done when the enormous raft swept past, so
close that the nearest log was heard scraping the entire length of the
boat. The impact drove it clear, and before any one beside the boy
realized how it was done the entire structure had gone by, no damage
was done and all were safe.

"Jim," said Mr. Hunter, a minute after, when the flurry was over, "what
a set of fools we were that we didn't think of that."

"I don't agree with you," replied the other, "because no one would have
thought of it except _that_ youngster."

"Tim," added the father, placing his hand affectionately on his head,
"I am proud of you."

And the little fellow blushed and replied:

"I'm glad I happened to think of it in time, but it _was_ rather close,
wasn't it?"

"It couldn't have been more so, and but for you boat and cargo would
have been a dead loss, and more than likely some of us would have lost
our lives."

That night at the supper table, Mr. Hunter remarked with a meaning
smile:

"Maggie, the Hunter family contains a fool and a genius, I'm not the
genius and 'Mit' isn't the fool."

"Father, you are not just to yourself," the boy hastened to say; "I
have done wrong in not appreciating your kindness or indulgence, and I
have resolved to do my best to please you. I think I have some talent
for composition and invention, but I can use it just as well, without
neglecting the quarries and stone works, and if you will permit, I
shall give you all the help I can in the business with the hope that
some day, which I pray may be far distant, I shall become your
successor."

Tears filled the eyes of all, as the parent, rising from his chair,
placed his hand on the head of Tim and said, in a tremulous voice:

"God bless you, my son!"

***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE JUNGLE FUGITIVES***

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