er a silent look at it, it was again buried, and all returned to
the cabin. Then the lawyer, after asking further questions, drew up a
paper certifying to all the essential facts in the case, and Jim signed
it.

"Now, how be ye goin' to get back to Sevenoaks?" inquired Jim.

"I don't know. The man who brought me in is not to come for me for a
fortnight."

"Then ye've got to huff it," responded Jim.

"It's a long way."

"Ye can do it as fur as Mike's, an' he'll be glad to git back some o'
the hundred dollars that old Belcher got out of him."

"The row and the walk will be too much."

"I'll take ye to the landing," said Jim.

"I shall be glad to pay you for the job," responded Yates.

"An' ef ye do," said Jim, "there'll be an accident, an' two men'll get
wet, an' one on 'em'll stan' a chance to be drownded."

"Well, have your own way," said Yates.

It was not yet noon, and Jim hurried off his visitor. Yates bade
good-bye to Benedict, jumped into Jim's boat, and was soon out of sight
down the stream. The boat fairly leaped through the water under Jim's
strong and steady strokes, and it seemed that only an hour had passed
when the landing was discovered.

They made the whole distance in silence. Jim, sitting at his oars, with
Yates in the stern, had watched the lawyer with a puzzled expression. He
could not read him. The man had not said a word about Benedict. He had
not once pronounced his name. He was evidently amused with something,
and had great difficulty in suppressing a smile. Again and again the
amused expression suffused the lawyer's face, and still, by an effort of
will, it was smothered. Jim was in torture. The man seemed to be in
possession of some great secret, and looked as if he only waited an
opportunity beyond observation to burst into a laugh.

"What the devil ye thinkin' on?" inquired Jim at last.

Yates looked him in the eyes, and replied coolly:

"I was thinking how well Benedict is looking."

Jim stopped rowing, holding his oars in the air. He was dumb. His face
grew almost livid, and his hair seemed to rise and stand straight all
over his head. His first impulse was to spring upon the man and throttle
him, but a moment's reflection determined him upon another course. He
let his oars drop into the water, and then took up the rifle, which he
always carried at his side. Raising it to his eye, he said:

"Now, Number 'leven, come an' take my seat. Ef ye make any fuss, I'll
tip ye into