y putting them
bracelets which I sees hangin' out o' your pocket on my wrists." And he
held out his hands.

The policeman looked sheepish, whispered something to his companion, and
presently they turned their backs on the party and walked away in the
direction of the station.

"We's so stuck on this piece o' land," called Friend Othniel after them,
"that we thinks o' farmin' it permanently. Come back and spend Christmas
with us, won't yer?"

The officers did not deign to notice these remarks, and a few moments
later the train swept by them on its way to Montreal, the baggage-master
and his assistant giving their views on the party in general as they
passed.

The day now really began to break in earnest, bringing with it a cold,
damp chill, which seemed to penetrate to their very marrow. Spotts took
off his coat and wrapped it around the shivering Violet--an act of
chivalry which made Banborough curse his own thoughtlessness. But
Spotts's endeavours to promote the comfort of the company did not end
here. He roused Friend Othniel into action, and succeeded in collecting
a little stubble and underbrush, and with the aid of a few matches they
made an apology for a fire, round which the forlorn party huddled. But,
damp with the early dews, the brush gave out more smoke than flame, only
serving to emphasize their discomfort.

The increasing light showed them something of their surroundings. At
distances varying from a mile to a mile and a half a few dilapidated
dwellings peeped out of a fringe of woods. Everything else was
pine-swamp, with the exception of the one small field of potatoes in
which they were encamped, and which stood out as an oasis in the
wilderness. Through the midst of the landscape straggled a muddy road,
hopelessly impassable for foot-travellers. Certainly the outlook was not
cheering.

It was therefore with a feeling of positive relief that they perceived
shambling towards them the uncouth figure of the station-master. He
paused on the edge of the patch, with one hand embedded in his shock of
hair, and the other grasping a large piece of chalk, and surveyed the
party critically.

"Say," he began after a few moments' silence, "them's my potatoes you're
a-settin' on."

The tramp growled something unintelligible, and the others vouchsafed no
reply whatsoever.

"I guess it must be purty damp out in that field," continued the
station-master, "specially for the ladies, and I thought as how I'd let