ss extraordinary than fifteen fat Southdown
sheep and a sober-faced collie-dog. The crew of this remarkable craft
consisted of a sinewy, bearded man of forty-five who minded sheet and
tiller in the stern, and a boy of fourteen, tall and broad for his age,
who was constantly employed in soothing and restraining the bleating
flock.

No one was present to witness the spectacle because, in those remote
days, there were scarcely a thousand white men on the whole coast of
Maine from Kittery to Louisberg, while at this season of the year the
Indians were following the migrating game along the northern rivers. The
nearest settlement was a tiny log hamlet, ten miles up the bay, which
the two voyagers had left that morning.

The boy's keen face, under its shock of sandy hair, was turned toward
the sea and the dim outline of land that smudged the southern horizon.

"Father," he suddenly asked, "how big is the Island?"

"You'll see soon enough, Jeremy. Stop your questioning," answered the
man. "We'll be there before night and I'll leave you with the sheep.
You'll be lonesome, too, if I mistake not."

[Illustration: Jeremy]

"Huh!" snorted Jeremy to himself.

Indeed it was not very likely that this lad, raised on the wildest of
frontiers, would mind the prospect of a night alone on an island ten
miles out at sea. He had seen Indian raids before he was old enough to
know what frightened him; had tried his best with his fists to save his
mother in the Amesbury massacre, six years before; and in a little
settlement on the Saco River, when he was twelve, he had done a man's
work at the blockhouse loophole, loading nearly as fast and firing as
true as any woodsman in the company. Danger and strife had given the
lad an alert self-confidence far beyond his years.

Amos Swan, his father, was one of those iron spirits that fought out the
struggle with the New England wilderness in the early days. He had
followed the advancing line of colonization into the Northeast, hewing
his way with the other pioneers. What he sought was a place to raise
sheep. Instead of increasing, however, his flock had dwindled--wolves
here--lynxes there--dogs in the larger settlements. After the last
onslaught he had determined to move with his possessions and his two
boys--Tom, nineteen years old, and the smaller Jeremy--to an island too
remote for the attacks of any wild animal.

So he had set out in a canoe, chosen his place of habitation and built a
te