he has made this country
too hot to hold him."

"I only hope it may be so," rejoined Mr Huntingdon, "for it is a
miserable business, look at it which way you will."

"Yes," said Walter; "but I am persuaded that my sister was frightened by
the man into writing the last part of that letter;--don't you think so,
Amos?"

"Yes," replied his brother, "I certainly do. He has been plotting this
scheme in order to get me into his power; and when he found that by your
coming he had failed in his object, he made the best of matters for
himself by pretending to be the owner of the cottage, and to be in
ignorance of what had happened to me. And now you must tell me how you
found me, and how poor Prince found his way back."

Walter looked up to see if his father or aunt would give the account,
and then, when neither spoke, he plunged at once into his narrative.

"You must know, then, that we were all much distressed and perplexed
when my father showed us the letter, Amos, which you accidentally
dropped, and which we should none of us have read under ordinary
circumstances. We knew that you felt it to be your duty to go to poor
Julia; but we none of us liked the last part of the letter, and I am
sure I can say truly that I had my grievous suspicions from the very
first. However, when we got the news of your having set off to this
meeting, we could not have prevented it, even if we had thought it right
to do so; it would have been too late then. But we did not think it
would have been right; and auntie comforted us with the assurance that
God would take care of you, as you were gone on a work he must approve
of. So we waited patiently--or, as far as _I_ was concerned,
impatiently--all day, and went to bed with heavy hearts when you did not
turn up, and we had heard nothing of you. But father reminded us how
you had been absent once before for the night, when you had been
summoned to look after those poor children, and that you had come back
all safe; so we hoped that we should see you this morning early, or at
any rate before luncheon.

"And who do you think was our first messenger? Ah! you will hardly
guess. Why, none other than Prince, your pony. We were sitting at
breakfast very dull, and imagining all sorts of things, when Harry
hurried into the room, as white as if he had just seen a ghost, and
cried out, `Master, master! here's Prince come back all alone, and never
a word about poor dear Master Amos!' You may be