a, and the boy crept
outside in his flannels and planter's hat and threw himself down in a
cane chair with a little murmur of relief. Below him burned the white
lights of the town, a little noisier than usual to-night, for out in
the bay a steamer was lying-to, and there had been a few passengers and
cargo to land. The boy had had a hard day's work, or he would have been
in the town himself to watch for arrivals and wait for the mail. He
closed his eyes, half asleep, for the sun had been hot and the murmurs
of the sea below was almost like a lullaby. As he lay there a man's
voice from the path reached him. He sprang up, listening intently. It
must have been fancy--and yet! He leaned over the wooden balcony. The
figure of a man loomed out through the darkness, came nearer, became
distinct. Fred recognised him with a glad shout.

"Trent!" he cried. "Scarlett Trent, by all that's amazing!"

Trent held out his hand quickly. Somehow the glad young voice, quivering
with excitement, touched his heart in an unexpected and unusual manner.
It was pleasant to be welcomed like this--to feel that one person in the
world at least was glad of his coming. For Trent was a sorely stricken
man and the flavour of life had gone from him. Many a time he had looked
over the steamer's side during that long, lonely voyage and gazed almost
wishfully into the sea, in whose embrace was rest. It seemed to him
that he had been a gambler playing for great stakes, and the turn of the
wheel had gone against him.

"Fred!"

They stood with hands locked together, the boy breathless with surprise.
Then he saw that something was wrong.

"What is it, Trent?" he asked quickly. "Have we gone smash after all, or
have you been ill?"

Trent shook his head and smiled gravely.

"Neither," he said. "The Company is booming, I believe. Civilised ways
didn't agree with me, I'm afraid. That's all! I've come back to have a
month or two's hard work--the best physic in the world."

"I am delighted to see you," Fred said heartily. "Everything's going
A1 here, and they've built me this little bungalow, only got in it last
week--stunning, isn't it? But--just fancy your being here again so soon!
Are your traps coming up?"

"I haven't many," Trent answered. "They're on the way. Have you got room
for me?"

"Room for you!" the boy repeated scornfully. "Why, I'm all alone here.
It's the only thing against the place, being a bit lonely. Room for you!
I should think the