n good condition, and Darry had visions of coming days in the marsh and
swamp, where fat ducks and squirrels might fall to his aim, and provide
good dinners for this little family into whose humble home he had now
been fully taken.

His heart was filled with gratitude, for he knew that his lines had
fallen in pleasant places, since he was no longer a waif in the world.

CHAPTER VII

THE MIDNIGHT ALARM

Darry found himself greatly interested in the little diary left behind
by the boy naturalist, and which, besides containing an account of his
catches in the way of fur-bearing animals, also explained his methods of
setting snares and traps, how he cured the skins when taken, and where
he received the highest prices for the same.

All of this information was eagerly devoured by his successor, who felt
that it was certainly up to him to do his share toward supporting the
little family of the life saver who had been so kind to him.

He wandered out late one afternoon to look around and see what prospect
there might be for game; since the fall season was now on, and the boom
of guns beginning to be heard on the bay, where the ducks were
commencing to congregate.

As he drew near the cabin just at dusk he was surprised to discover a
figure making off in a suspicious way, as though not desirous of being
seen.

He recognized the lurker as Jim Dilks, and the fact gave him
considerable uneasiness, for he had not forgotten how the other vowed to
get even for his discomfiture, and Jim's methods of wiping out a score
were sometimes little short of shocking, if Darry could believe half he
had heard.

Had the fellow been prowling around in hopes of meeting him again, and
trying conclusions a second time?

Darry could not believe it, for such a thing would not be in line with
the reputation of the village bully.

He would be more apt to try and obtain a mean revenge by doing some
injury to the kind woman who had given refuge to this shipwrecked lad.

Evidently Mrs. Peake should know what he had seen, and so as soon as he
entered the kitchen, he spoke of it.

"Jim Dilks hanging about here," she echoed, in rising anger; "I'd just
like to know what that scamp wants, that's all. No good follows his
visits, as every one about this section knows to their sorrow."

"I'm afraid I'm the cause of it all. Unfortunately my being here is apt
to bring trouble down upon you. Perhaps it might be as well if I moved
on, as he sa