re isn't any house within two miles of here," he said shortly.

"What'll you bet? Half a dollar?"

"No," replied David resolutely.

"Well, come and see."

David followed his new acquaintance around the wooded bank. The river
was full of surprises to-day. In midstream he saw what looked to him
like a big raft supporting a small house.

"That's my shanty boat," explained the young man, as he shoved a
rowboat from shore. "Jump in, my boy."

"Do you live in it all the time?" asked David, watching with
admiration the easy but forceful pull on the oars.

"No; I am on a little fishing and hunting expedition."

"Can't kill anything now," said the boy, a derisive smile flickering
over his features.

"I am not hunting to kill, my lad. I am hunting old scenes and
memories of other days. I used to live about here. I ran away eight
years ago when I was just your age."

"What is your name?" asked David interestedly.

"Joe Forbes."

"Oh," was the eager rejoinder. "I know. You are Deacon Forbes' wild
son that ran away."

"So that's how I am known around here, is it? Well, I've come back, to
settle up my father's estate."

"What did you run away for?" inquired David.

"Combination of too much stepmother and a roving spirit, I guess. Here
we are."

He sprang on the platform of the shanty boat and helped David on
board. The boy inspected this novel house in wonder while his host set
saucers and spoons on the table.

"Would you mind," asked David in an embarrassed manner as he wistfully
eyed the coveted luxury, "if I took my dishful home?"

"What's the matter?" asked Forbes, his eyes twinkling. "Eaten too much
already?"

"No; but you see my mother likes it and she hasn't had any since last
summer. I'd rather take mine to her."

"There's plenty left for your mother. I'll put this pail in a bigger
one and pack ice about it. Then it won't melt."

"But you paid me for it," protested David.

"That's all right. Your mother was pretty good to me when I was a
boy. She dried my mop of hair for me once so my stepmother would not
know I'd been in swimming. Tell her I sent the cream to her. Say, you
were right about Miss M'ri making the best cream in the country. It
used to be a chronic pastime with her. That's how I guessed what you
had when you said you came from there. Whenever there was a picnic or
a surprise party in the country she always furnished the ice cream.
Isn't she married yet?"

"No."

"Doesn't she keep