gether, they realized it was
complete. No two people felt more indebted to their benefactors than
this couple, and words failed them to express it. But their manner,
their faces and their attitude to each other showed what was in their
minds, though the only words that passed were a cordial, "Good-bye; God
bless you," from Goody, and a few heartfelt words of thanks from his
daughter.

The boys held a long consultation as to their future movements, but were
unable to come to a more decisive conclusion than that they should wait
results.

"Wyck," said Hal, "left in a small boat; he may be wrecked; he may be
blown out to sea; he may run for shelter into one of the neighbouring
bays on the East coast. We had better make arrangements with the
telegraph station to inform their officers that if any boat answering to
the description of Wyck's should turn up, we are to be informed of it
immediately. Meanwhile, we will stop here."

Mrs. Eastwood had had a long conversation both with Goody and his
daughter, and this resulted in her holding a high opinion of the boys.
As she moved in the best society of the district she determined to make
their stay as enjoyable as possible. She procured them tickets for the
Mayor's ball, an annual affair of great moment. They acknowledged to the
full her kindly intentions, but explained to her why they avoided any
pleasure or society that might draw them away from the fulfilment of
their compact. A more practical objection was the fact that they had
brought no dress clothes with them, but seeing the good lady's
disappointment, Hal suggested that, as they should like to have a peep
at Hobart society, they might gaze down upon it from the gallery.

This they did do, and Hal after taking the keenest interest in the
animated scene below him, and commenting on all the features of the
ball, was struck with remorse to find Reg sitting by his side with a
pained face. The memories the scene called up were too bitter, and it
was with a sense of relief when Hal got up hurriedly and left.

"I'm sorry, old chap. I'm a brute," he said, when they were outside.

"Don't talk like that," answered Reg. "You are one in ten thousand.
Where could one find another fellow such as you are, gifted with all
that makes life worth the living; ready to throw up everything to help a
chance stranger. It's I who am the brute, old fellow, to expect you to
be tied to the vow you made."

"I don't like you to say that," said