as given up; but our little Horace
did one thing which was noble in a boy of his age: perhaps he
remembered what his father had said long ago in regard to the injured
watch; but, at any rate, he went to Billy Green of his own accord, and
offered him the beautiful present which he had received from the
Indians.

"It's not a horse-basket, Billy: I didn't get to make one," stammered
he, in a choked voice; "but you said you'd call it square."

"Whew!" cried Billy, very much astonished: "now look here, bub; that's a
little too bad! The old thing you lugged off was about worn out, anyhow.
Don't want any of your fancy baskets: so just carry it back, my fine
little shaver."

To say that Horace was very happy, would not half express the delight he
felt as he ran home with the beautiful basket on his arm, his "ownest
own," beyond the right of dispute.

The Indians disappeared quite suddenly; and perhaps it was nothing
surprising that, the very next morning after they left, grandpa Parlin
should find his beautiful melon-patch stripped nearly bare, with nothing
left on the vines but a few miserable green little melons.

CHAPTER XII.

A PLEASANT SURPRISE.

"It's too bad," said Horace to his sister, "that I didn't get to make
baskets; I'd have grown rich so soon. What would you try to do next?"

"Pick berries," suggested Grace.

And that very afternoon they both went blackberrying with Susy and aunt
Madge. They had a delightful time. Horace could not help missing Pincher
very much: still, in spite of the regret, it was a happier day than the
one he and Peter Grant had spent "in the Pines." He was beginning to
find, as all children do, how hard it is to get up "a good time" when
you are pricked by a guilty conscience, and how easy it is to be happy
when you are doing right.

They did not leave the woods till the sun began to sink, and reached
home quite tired, but as merry as larks, with baskets nearly full of
berries.

When Horace timidly told aunt Madge that he and Grace wanted to sell all
they had gathered, his aunt laughed, and said she would buy the fruit if
they wished, but wondered what they wanted to do with the money: she
supposed it was for the soldiers.

"I want to give it to ma," replied Horace, in a low voice; for he did
not wish his aunt Louise to overhear. "She hasn't more than three bills
in her pocket-book, and it's time for me to begin to take care of her."

"Ah," said aunt Madge, with one of