"I am really sorry that I have given you so much trouble," the girl apologised. "I am very grateful for what you have already done, and as soon as I reach the quarry I shall leave you at once. I know I have placed you in a most embarrassing position."

"An' what do ye intend to do after ye leave this boat?" the captain somewhat anxiously enquired.

"I have not the slightest idea. But I am not going to worry about that now. I shall be free, and that will be worth a great deal to me."

When dinner was at last over, they were again upon deck. Jess had prepared a tempting meal, and while she and the captain dined, Eben took his turn at the wheel. The boy had hardly spoken a word after his father's return from the store, but a new light shone in his eyes, and his step was more buoyant than before. The furtive look that he at times cast upon the fair passenger was one of profound admiration. To him she was the most beautiful and wonderful person he had ever met, and her words of encouragement and appreciation had fallen upon his lonely soul like a refreshing rain upon a thirsty land.

The wind was stronger now, and running through the wide stretch of water, known as the "Long Reach," the boat encountered heavy swells, through which she surged, dashing the spray from her bow at each plunge. The captain was unusually silent, and Jess noticed that he was becoming somewhat nervous. This became more apparent the farther up the river they moved, and it was not until they had passed one of the three islands, which here studded the river, did she comprehend the meaning of the captain's uneasiness. With hands firmly grasping the wheel, he often cast his eyes shoreward, as if searching for some special object. Presently he emitted an exclamation of annoyance, and turned suddenly to the girl by his side.

"Git into the cabin," he ordered. "Martha's got the glass on us. I kin see her at the front door. Hustle. I don't want her to see ye. But ye needn't go all the way down, Miss. Jist set within the door, so she can't see ye."

Jess quickly obeyed, and perched upon the second step from the top, she waited to see what would happen.

"Does your wife always use the glass?" she at length asked.

"Allus, Miss. Guess she's had it turned on us ever since we hove in sight. Hope to goodness she hasn't spied you out."

The house toward which the captain's attention was directed, stood upon a gentle elevation, with a well-kept garden, sloping to the river. It was a cosy-looking place, and the surrounding trees protected the house from the storms of winter. The building was painted white, with dark trimmings, and owing to its situation, could be seen for miles from the river. The captain was naturally proud of his home, and was always glad when it appeared in sight. But this day was the first exception during his long years of boating. His face became stern, and his hands gripped the wheel harder than ever as he set his mind upon the task of running by that snug cottage on the hill side. Why had he been such a fool, he asked himself, as to let this strange runaway girl remain on board? He should have notified the search party at once as to her whereabouts, and delivered her into their hands. His heart, however, softened as he glanced down and saw the girl's wistful eyes fixed full upon his face.

"I am very sorry, Captain, that I am causing you so much worry," she remarked. "But for me you would soon be home with your wife and daughter."

"Tut, tut, Miss, don't ye bother about that," the old man replied, as he gave the wheel a vigorous yank to the right. "This boat was headin' straight fer the shore. She's run in thar so often that she does it of her own accord. She's almost human, this boat is. My! won't Martha git the surprise of her life when she sees us go by. She's wavin' now, blamed if she ain't! an' runnin' down to the shore. An' that's Flo behind her! Mebbe Flo'll try to swim out to us, fer she's great in the water, almost like a fish."

The "Eb and Flo" was now almost abreast of the captain's home, and scudding so fast that in a few minutes she would be by. It was possible for Jess to see the two women standing upon the shore, frantically waving their arms and shouting across the water. What they said she could not distinguish, though she guessed the purport of the words they were uttering. She pitied the captain, for she was well aware that when he did go home his reception would be far from pleasant. She kept her eyes riveted upon the women until they became mere specks in the distance. Then she turned to the captain. He was mopping his face with a big red handkerchief, and his hands were trembling.

"Dam it!" he growled. "I'm all het up. It must be ninety in the shade. Git me a drink of water, will ye?"



CHAPTER VIII

WHAT THE COW DID

"If she won't take ye in, yer welcome to stay here all night."

The "Eb and Flo" was lying securely fastened to the wharf at the Spoon Island stone quarry. She had made a good run up the river, and had reached her destination late in the afternoon. Captain Tobin was standing upon deck looking upon Jess and Eben as they started up the track toward the quarry.

"Eben'll show ye Mrs. Ricksteen's house," he told the girl. "I guess she needs extry help with the crowd of men she allus has. But she might want a recommendation, fer she's mighty pertic'ler, Mrs. Ricksteen is. Anyway, if she won't take ye in, yer welcome to come back here."

Jess thanked the captain, and told him that she was sure she could make out all right. She would return in the morning to tell him of her success, and get her belongings.

"See that Eben behaves himself," the captain reminded. "An' don't let him stay too long. Thar's a lot of work to do on board to-night."

"You needn't worry," was the girl's smiling reply. "Eben can return just as soon as he shows me the way. I won't run off with him."

The captain stood and watched them as they walked slowly up the track. "My, my, she's a fine gal, an' no mistake," he mused. "I never saw Eben so taken up with anyone as he is with her. Why, his face brightens the instant she speaks to him. Seems to me he's head over heels in love with her. It's only nat'ral, I s'pose. If I was young meself I'd lose me head an' heart over a gal like that. It'd be great to have her fer a daughter-in-law. Wonder what Martha an' Flo 'd say."

While the captain was thus musing, the young couple made their way slowly along the track which led across a wide stretch of interval. Eben was somewhat embarrassed at first when he found himself alone with the beautiful girl, so his words were few. But as they advanced, he felt more at ease, and readily answered all of her questions. He explained how the truck, carrying the granite blocks, was impelled across the interval to the river by the impetus given on the steep hill ahead. Two men were always in charge, who handled the brakes, and stopped the truck just at the right place on the wharf.

"But isn't it very dangerous coming down that steep hill?" Jess asked, as she looked up the track which ran through a forest of small trees.

"Y' bet," was the emphatic reply. "I came down once, an' me hair was standin' straight on end, an' I didn't have any breath left when we got to the bottom. It was great!"

"It certainly must have been," the girl enthusiastically declared. "I would like to try it myself."

"Ye would!" Eben stopped and stared at his companion in amazement.

"Yes, and why not? I like a little excitement once in a while."

"I guess ye must, Miss."

"Don't call me 'Miss,' say 'Jess,' I like it better. We are chums, you know, and chums must not put on any airs."

Eben's face coloured, and his heart beat fast. It was great to have her talk in such a friendly way. He believed that she liked him, too, and that meant a great deal to him. The world seemed a much brighter place since this runaway girl entered his life.

They had crossed the interval and were almost at the base of the hill, when a rumbling sound fell upon their ears.

"It's the truck comin'," Eben explained, at the same time laying his hand upon the girl's arm and drawing her off the track. "Now ye'll see something worth while."

And truly indeed they were both destined to behold something of a most unexpected and terrible nature during the next few minutes. They saw the truck far up the hill, and almost held their breath as it took the wild plunge in its mad career to the valley below. Just at this exciting instant, however, the bushes close to the line were suddenly parted, and a large cow appeared. She stepped upon the track, stopped, and looked up. Before a word could be said or a hand lifted, the truck swept upon her like a catapult. A sickening crash ensued, and men, cow, truck and granite blocks were hurled from the track, and tossed in a confused heap among the bushes several rods away.

When the crash took place, Jess gave a cry of dismay and buried her face in her hands to shut out the terrible sight. This was but for an instant, however, for she realised, that something must be done to help the unfortunate men should they be alive. Eben was staring as if rooted to the spot, his body trembling with excitement.

"Isn't it awful!" he groaned. "Oh, what kin we do?"

"Let us go and see," was the reply. "Come on."

Together they made their way up the track as fast as possible, and as they approached the spot where the accident had taken place, an indescribable feeling came over the girl. Suppose the men were dead! And if not dead, they surely must be fearfully mangled. How could she endure the sight? But struggle on she did, and at length saw one of the men limping painfully toward her. His clothes were torn, and his face and hands were bleeding. He staggered as he walked, and when he reached the track he sank down upon the ground.

"Are you much hurt?" Jess asked, hurrying to his side. Her fears had all vanished, and she thought not of herself, but only of the injured man.

"Never mind me," the man replied. "I'll be all right shortly. But for God's sake do something for Bill. He's over there among the stones all smashed up. I was pitched clear."

With a bound Eben left the track, and leaped among the bushes down where Bill was lying, half buried beneath a tangle of stones, trees and truck. The man was very still, and to all appearance dead. But, as Eben began to free his body, he opened his eyes and moaned. Fortunately none of the monster stones rested upon him, but only a small bent tree held his legs as in a vice. With considerable difficulty Eben was able to free the man, and then lifting him in his arms staggered out of the ruins, and laid his burden gently upon the ground a short distance away. In another minute Jess was kneeling by the injured man's side, wiping the blood which flowed down his face with her small white handkerchief.

"We must have help at once," she exclaimed, turning to Eben. "Is there a doctor anywhere near? Go for him, quick."

Scarcely had she ceased speaking ere the sound of hurrying footsteps fell upon their ears. In another minute several excited men were by their side, examining the wounded man and asking numerous questions. Jess rose to her feet and stepped back. As she did so someone touched her lightly on the arm, and whispered her name. Turning swiftly around, she came face to face with the driver of the car who had interviewed Captain Tobin outside the store that very morning.

"John!" It was all that she said, but the flush upon her face, and the light of joy which leaped into her eyes were more expressive than many words.

"How did you get here so soon?" the young man asked. "This is no place for you, Jess. Let me take you back to the boat."

"No, no," was the low reply. "We must look after this poor man first. Oh, do what you can for him at once."

For a few seconds the young man looked into the eyes of the girl before him. The great longing of his heart was expressed in that look, and the girl understood. She turned toward the injured man, and absently watched his companions doing what they could for his welfare. Into her heart stole a peace such as she had not known for days. The one she loved was with her, and she knew that he loved her with all the strength of his true manly nature. Forgotten for a time were Donaster and her other persecutors. In this rough wilderness spot she felt secure from their grasp, and with John Hampton near she was ready and willing to defy the whole world.

The brief scene enacted between the young lovers was not noticed by the men earnestly discussing what should be done with their battered comrade. The accident alone so arrested and held their attention that the thought of love-making at such a critical situation never once occurred to them.

With Eben, however, it was different. He saw and understood far too much for his peace of mind. In an instant he grasped the meaning of the whispered words and the expression upon the faces of the lovers. A feeling such as he had never before known leaped into his heart. He forgot all about the injured man, and paid no attention to what was being done with him. He could think only of himself, and how another had come between him and the girl he loved. He knew John Hampton well, and it came as a great surprise that he should be on such friendly terms with Jess Randall.

In a few minutes the helpless man was lifted carefully from the ground, and borne gently away on a rude stretcher which had been speedily improvised by his comrades. Jess and John followed, talking with each other, though so low that Eben could not understand what they were saying. As they moved forward, he skulked a short distance behind. The girl paid no attention to him now. In fact, she did not seem to be even aware of his presence. She was taken up entirely with the young man by her side, so the idea that she meant anything to the awkward youth to the rear never once crossed her mind.

In about fifteen minutes the injured man's house was reached, and all entered except Eben. It was merely a shack, almost surrounded by trees, and situated a short distance from the main highway. Here Bill Dobbins and his wife lived during the summer months while work was being carried on in the granite quarry. Their real home was elsewhere, so this rude structure was all that they required during their temporary stay at the quarry.

Eben waited for a few minutes outside, uncertain what to do. At length he turned and made his way slowly back to the road, and down the track to the river. He said nothing to his father about the accident, and turned into his bunk at an unusually early hour. When the captain asked him about the girl, and if Mrs. Ricksteen had taken her in, Eben was curt in his reply, saying that he did not know. Not until the next morning did Captain Tobin hear about the accident, for he had been in the cabin when it had occurred. He then questioned his son as to the details, but received no satisfactory information. Later he learned of the whole affair from two men from the quarry, when they ran their first morning load of granite down to the river. The injured man was still unconscious, so they told him. The doctor had arrived during the night, and did what he could for his welfare. The men were loud in their praises of the young woman who had sat up all night with Mrs. Dobbins, and had made herself so agreeable and helpful.

"I guess she's there to stay," one of them remarked. "Wonder where in the world she dropped from. Ye don't see the likes of her every day, 'specially in a place like this."

"She and young Hampton seem to be very thick," the other volunteered. "They must have known each other before by the look of things."

"Hampton, did ye say?" the captain asked. "D'ye mean Widder Hampton's son, of Beech Cove?"

"I don't know whose son he is," was the reply. "He arrived at the quarry yesterday afternoon, and has been hanging around ever since. Mebbe he planned to meet the girl here."

The captain made no reply but went on with his work. He thought, however, of the interview he had with Hampton down the river the day before, and he smiled to himself, He understood now why the young fellow was so interested in the fair passenger on board the "Eb and Flo," and for his sake, no doubt, the girl had run away from home.

Eben worked so hard all the morning that his father was greatly surprised. He had heard what the men said about Hampton and the girl, and it was necessary for him to do something to give vent to his intensely wrought-up feelings. He worked with a feverish energy, and seemed to possess the strength of two men as he helped at the derrick as the big blocks of granite were swung on board. He hardly touched his noon-day meal, and this caused his father considerable anxiety, for the boy had been always blessed with an excellent appetite.

All through the afternoon the work of loading the boat was continued, and such excellent progress was made that the captain was looking forward to sailing early the next morning. To all outward appearance Eben's mind was entirely upon the big stones which were being hoisted on board. But anyone watching closely might have noticed that occasionally he gave a keen, furtive glance up toward the quarry.

The day was fast wearing to its close, and the last block of stone was about to be moved, when Eben gave one of his quick looks up the hill. As he did so he suddenly straightened himself up and stared as if he had seen a ghost. His face became suddenly pale, and his hands trembled as he watched two people walking slowly down the track. He recognised them at once, and it was their appearance he had been expecting all the afternoon. He knew that they were coming to the boat, and he did not wish to meet the girl when Hampton was present. He felt that he could not trust himself, so great was his agitation.

Without a word to anyone Eben left the wharf, walked a few yards along the river, and disappeared among some bushes. He soon stopped when he was sure that he could not be seen, crouched low upon the ground, and watched all that was taking place near the "Eb and Flo." He could see John and the girl talking with the captain for a few minutes, after which the three went on board and entered the cabin. When they reappeared about fifteen minutes later, Hampton was carrying a small parcel in his hand, which Eben surmised contained the articles his father had purchased for Jess at the store. When once again upon the wharf, they stood and talked for a few minutes. What they said Eben could not make out, but presently he heard his father calling his name. This caused him to crouch lower upon the ground, fearful lest he should be observed. One of the quarrymen then spoke and motioned his hand in the direction the boy had gone. Eben heard the amused laughter which followed, and he fully comprehended its meaning. They were laughing at him for running away! It was almost more than he could endure, and his first impulse was to rush from his hiding place, challenge John Hampton for a fight, and show Jess that he was no coward. But a natural diffidence restrained him, which caused him to remain silent and unseen. It was only when he was certain that the visitors were well out of sight, did he venture back to the wharf. His father looked at him somewhat curiously, but was wise enough to ask no questions.

When darkness had settled over the land, Eben left the boat and made his way slowly up the track. Reaching the main highway, he moved forward with a long jerky stride until he came to the little clearing where the Dobbins' shack was situated. He stopped and peered cautiously around. A light shone from the one window facing the road, and toward this Eben stealthily moved. There was no blind to the window, so when near enough he could easily see all that was taking place within. The sight that met his first glance stirred him to a high pitch of angry jealousy. He saw the two sitting close to each other but a short distance from the injured man, who was lying upon a cot. John was talking to Jess in a most earnest manner, and the look upon the girl's face was one of intense happiness. She was evidently pleased at what her lover was saying, for occasionally her lips parted in a smile.

All this Eben saw in the few minutes that he stood there. His hands were clenched hard, and his eyes were filled with the fire of hatred. There was the man who had come between him and the girl he loved. He was but a short distance away, so acting upon the wild impulse of the instant he stooped down, and finding a stone lying right at his feet, he took careful aim, and hurled it with his full force through the window, straight at the head of his enemy. The sudden crash was followed instantly by a cry of pain, and then all was still. With fast-beating heart Eben looked, expecting to see Hampton stretched upon the floor. Great was his horror to behold the girl lying there instead, her deathly-white face stained with blood. With a startled cry as of a wild beast in agony, he turned and fled along the road, down the track, and back to the refuge of the "Eb and Flo."



CHAPTER IX

MARTHA TAKES A HAND

Throughout the entire night the horror of a great dread drove all sleep from Eben's eyes. As he lay in his bunk every sound seemed to be magnified, and he imagined that men would come for him and lead him away to trial. He felt quite sure that he had killed Jess and that he would be hung for murder. The girl's white face with the bloodstain upon it was ever before him, and he could not shut it from his mind. And he had murdered her, the one who had meant so much to him. The thought of John Hampton filled his soul with bitterness. He was the cause of all his misery, so he reasoned. Why had not the stone hit him instead of the girl?

Some time before daylight he went out on deck. The cabin was stifling, and he felt that he would smother if he stayed there any longer. He sauntered up forward, and looked out over the water. It was a beautiful night, with a gentle wind drifting in from the west. The accustomed sounds of darkness fell upon his ears, but he paid no attention to them now. His mind was not in tune with nature's sweet harmonies, so she brought no restful peace to his tumultuous brain. He longed to know what was taking place in the little shack in the forest. Was the girl lying there still in death? Would people know who did the deed? How would they find out? He had read about detectives searching for criminals, and following most unexpected clues. Had he left any trace behind? he wondered. No twinge of conscience troubled his soul. It was only regret that the stone had hit the wrong person. He was sorry for the girl, and for himself. His nature was as clay, full of many possibilities, and capable of being moulded by right methods into a choice vessel. But hitherto no one had understood his peculiar nature. Then when love for a noble woman did at length enter his soul, its influence was quenched by the spirit of hatred and revenge.

Great excitement reigned at the quarry when the men learned of the accident which had befallen Miss Randall. Feeling ran high and had they known the one who committed the deed, it would have gone hard with him. Captain Tobin heard the story when he visited the quarry during the morning. He had been more surprised than ever at Eben's silent and strange manner, especially when he had found him at daybreak at the bow of the boat. He could get nothing from the boy, and in disgust he had left him and ate his breakfast alone. He believed that his son was deeply in love with Jess Randall, and that the presence of John Hampton was the cause of his depression. He imagined that it was but a temporary affection, and nothing would come of it, until he heard of what had happened to the girl. Then a great fear forced itself upon his mind. He banished it at first as improbable. But the more he thought of it, and the more he considered Eben's strange manner, the more he was led to the painful conclusion that his son was the one who had thrown the stone through the window. He was well aware of Eben's impulsive nature, and the extent to which he would go when roused to anger. He overheard two men talking about the affair.

"I'd like to lay my hands on the skunk who threw that stone," declared one, "I'd show him a thing or two. The idea of hitting such a girl as that, an' her watching by Bill."

"Is she badly hurt, d'ye think?" the other asked. "Can't say. Mrs. Dobbins said she was able to sit up in the car when young Hampton took her away."

"Where did he take her to?"

"To the hospital, I guess. But maybe he took her to his own home. His mother lives down the river somewhere, so I understand."

The captain breathed more freely when he learned that the girl was able to travel in the car. At first he feared that she had been so badly injured that she might die. Then the guilty one would surely be found, and if it proved to be his own son how terrible it would be. Even now should suspicion rest upon Eben the quarrymen might prove very troublesome. He, therefore, decided to get away as soon as possible. He did not wish to shield his son if he were in the wrong. But he wanted him to receive a fair trial, if the matter went that far, and not have him dealt with by a number of excited men who might let their passions get the upper hand.

Shortly after noon the "Eb and Flo" slipped from her wharf, and headed downstream. The tide was fair, and the light breeze was favourable for a long tack out of the narrow channel into the main river below Spoon Island. The captain was at the wheel, with Eben by his side, ready for any orders which might be given. Very few words had passed between father and son during the day, and to all outward appearance they seemed like complete strangers. But the captain's mind had been busy upon more than his boat. He felt it was his duty to speak to Eben and find out if he did really throw the stone which hit the girl. Several times he was on the point of mentioning the subject, but always hesitated. It was a delicate matter, he well knew, and for the first time in his life he was at a loss for words. At length, however, he brought his courage to what he thought was the sticking point.

"Say, Eben," he began. Then he paused, and looked helplessly around.

"What is it, dad?"

"D'ye think it's goin' to blow hard to-day?"

"Mebbe it will, an' mebbe it won't."

The captain gave the wheel a slight turn, and ran a little closer to the island.

"Eben."

The boy looked curiously at his father.

"D'ye s'pose yer mother'll be waitin' fer us?"

"Most likely."

The captain shifted uneasily, and clutched the wheel with a firmer grip.

"Say, Eben, it was too bad that gal got hurt last night, wasn't it?"

The boy started, and gave his father a quick look. Then his eyes dropped.

"What girl, dad? Ye never told me about it."

"But don't ye know, Eben?"

"Know what?"

"Quit yer nonsense. Didn't ye hear about that gal who came up river with us gittin' hurt?"

"Naw, never heard a word."

"Ye didn't!" The captain stared at his son. Surely, he thought, the boy is not adding a lie to his misdeed.

"I ain't seen anybody this mornin' but you, dad," Eben explained. "How could I hear anything?"

"Sure, sure, I guess yer right. But I did think mebbe ye'd thrown that stone. I'm mighty glad to learn that ye know nuthin' about it."

"I didn't say I know nuthin'. Ye didn't ask me that."

"Didn't I? Why, I thought I spoke plain enough."

"Oh, shucks! Ye jist asked me if I had heard about it, which I didn't. Nobody told me, but I know jist the same. I threw that stone."

There was an expression of defiance upon the boy's face, and his eyes were blazing. He partly expected his father to swing upon him with strong words of reproof. In this, however, he was mistaken. The captain remained very quiet for a few minutes, which seemed, to Eben much longer. At last he turned and looked at his son. His rough, knotted hands trembled on the wheel, and his eyes were misty. Eben never saw him look at him in such a way before. Had he stormed and raged it would have but increased his defiance. But that look of silent reproach smote his very soul, causing him to cower conscience stricken. Without a word, he left his father's side and went forward. And there he stood with his hands behind his back, staring straight before him. The captain watched him anxiously. His mind was greatly confused over the confession he had just heard. What would Martha and Flo say when they heard of it? The family would be disgraced, for the neighbours up and down the river would learn the truth sooner or later. What should he do? Would it be right to shield his son? The perspiration stood out in beads upon his forehead, and a groan escaped his lips. Then almost unconsciously he began to sing his old favourite verse:

"Here I'll raise my Ebenezer, Hither by Thy grace I'll come, And I trust in Thy good pleasure, Safely to arrive at home."

"Seems to me," he mused, "that I've been tryin' to raise Eben without considerin' enough the great Stone of help. I've heard the parson say that's the meanin' of Ebenezer, and that the stone refers to the Lord. Yes, I guess I need His help more'n ever jist now."

The "Eb and Flow" made slow progress down river, for the wind was light, and it was necessary to beat most of the way. It was, accordingly, evening when at last she ran slowly into Beech Cove and dropped anchor. The captain's mind was worried about the reception he would receive, for he knew how angry his wife would be over his strange action on the up trip. He was at a loss to explain, for he could not bring himself to the extremity of telling a falsehood. He was thinking seriously of this when his wife appeared on the shore. She immediately launched a small row-boat and headed for the "Eb and Flo." The captain received her as graciously as possible, although he knew at the first glance that his entire stock of affableness could not dispel the threatening clouds.

"Well, Sam'l," Mrs. Tobin began, the instant she stepped upon the deck, "what have you got to say for yourself?"

"Nuthin', Martha, nuthin', 'cept I'm mighty glad to see ye."

"H'm, don't ye lie to me, Sam'l. Ye must be mighty glad to see me. Why did ye go by on your up trip without stopping?"

"I was in a great hurry, Martha, an' had to git the wind when it served. We was hung up a long time down river."

"But ye never did such a thing before. Was there any special reason why ye didn't call just for a few minutes?"

Mrs. Tobin was a buxom, matronly-looking woman, with a usually bright, pleasant face. But now it was stern, and her dark eyes were filled with anger as she noted her husband's silence and confusion. Presently she turned to her son who was standing near.

"What have you to say, Eben? Your father seems to have lost his tongue all of a sudden. What have you two been doing?"

If his mother had asked him such a question that morning he would not have hesitated about telling the truth. But the thought of the expression upon his father's face when he had told about throwing the stone, deterred him. He looked at his mother uncertain what to say.

"Have you lost your tongue, too?" she impatiently demanded. "Dear me, there must be something wrong when you too are afraid or ashamed to speak. Things have come to a pretty pass, Sam'l, when you an' Eben conspire against me. Haven't I cooked for you, washed and mended your clothes all these years, and been a good wife to you, Sam'l?"

"Indeed ye have, Martha. Ye've done yer duty, all right."

"An' haven't I been a good mother to your children?"

"Sure, sure, ye have, Martha. Ye done yer duty to them, too."

"Well, then, Sam'l, why is it that you've treated me in such a manner? Why have you set my only son against me?"

"I haven't set him aginst ye, Martha. Eben's got a tongue which he's at liberty to use. I s'pose he knows it's no use to speak, fer if ye won't believe me ye won't believe him, so thar. Ye needn't git on yer high-horse about nuthin'."

Mrs. Tobin looked at her husband in surprise, for seldom had he ever spoken to her in such a manner.

"And you've done nothing wrong?" she asked. "Are you sure?"

"No, we ain't done nuthin' wrong 'ccordin' to our way of thinkin'. We sailed by without stoppin', I acknowledge. But is that any crime? Bizness is bizness an' must be attended to."

Captain Tobin felt quite pleased at his own boldness, and for his victory over his wife. He had no idea that she would calm down so soon. Had he made a mistake in always giving in to her? he asked himself. Perhaps if he had been a little more assertive it might have been better for his welfare.

"I suppose the cabin's in a terrible mess." His wife's words suddenly aroused him.

"No, no, Martha, it's in great shape," he hastened to assure her. "I scrubbed the floor meself when we was held up down river."

"Then it must be in great shape, Sam'l. I've seen your scrubbing before. I'm going to have a look, anyway. No doubt there are some dirty clothes to take home. I suppose you didn't wash them."

Mrs. Tobin made her way to the cabin, and down the narrow stairway, closely followed by the captain and Eben.

"It smells close here, Sam'l," she commented, as she stood in the centre of the room and looked critically around. "You should have more ventilation. It isn't healthy. I have often——"

She paused abruptly as her eyes rested upon a narrow shelf on which a little clock was steadily ticking. Stepping quickly forward, she reached out her right hand, seized something and held it forth. It was a woman's innocent side-comb, but to the captain and his son it appeared more terrible than the most dangerous bomb. They stared as if they had never beheld such a thing before. Mrs. Tobin watched them as she gripped the comb in her hand. Her eyes blazed with anger as she glowered upon the two abashed ones before her. The captain clutched his handkerchief and mopped his hot brow. Then he looked helplessly around. He longed to escape, to flee anywhere from his wife's accusing eyes.

"Where did this come from?" The words fell slowly from Mrs. Tobin's lips, and to the two culprits they sounded like the knell of doom. She waited for some response, but none came. "Is it possible that you have had a woman in this cabin," she continued. "Can you deny it, Sam'l Tobin?"

The captain clawed nervously at the back of his head with the fingers of his right hand, and then glanced up the stairway. The gleam of triumph shone in his wife's eyes as she noted his embarrassment.

"You can't deny it, Sam'l," she charged, at the same time pointing an accusing finger straight at his face, "I can read you like a book. You've had a woman on board, and this is her comb. You can't deny it."

"It'd be no use, Martha," the captain replied. "Ye wouldn't believe me if I did."

"No, not in the face of this," and Mrs. Tobin again held forth the comb.

"Well, then, Martha, what's the use of so much talk? I've had a hard day, so am tired an' hungry. Guess Eben is, too."

"Tired! Hungry!" Mrs. Tobin snapped. "You'll be more tired and hungry before I'm through with you, let me tell you that. You might as well own up first as last about that woman you had on board. Who is the miserable hussy, and where is she now?"

A gleam of hope suddenly appeared in the captain's eyes, and he shot a swift glance toward his son.

"We had no miserable hussy on board, Martha," he replied. "That's the Gospel truth, so if ye don't believe it, ye needn't."

"I'm afraid you're lying, Sam'l. If you didn't have a woman on board, where, then, did this comb come from?"

"Blamed if I know. How d'ye expect me to keep track of sich gear?"

Mrs. Tobin gave a sigh of despair as she turned to her son.

"Is your father telling the truth, Eben?" she asked.

"Yes, ma."

"And you had no bad, miserable hussy on board this boat?"

"No, ma, we didn't."

"And you haven't been doing anything wrong, anything that you're ashamed of?"

Eben's face suddenly coloured, and his eyes dropped. He remembered what he had done at the quarry. Mrs. Tobin was now convinced that she was being deceived, and that her husband and son were in league against her. She wheeled upon the captain.

"I want you to come right home with me, Sam'l. This is a very serious matter, and I need Flo's advice. She's got a level head, and will know what had better be done. I can hardly think, I'm so worked up."

"But you kin talk all right, Martha, even if ye can't think," the captain retorted. "If ye'd think more ye'd talk less. If ye don't believe what me an' Eben have said, ye needn't. Yes, I'll go home with ye, fer I guess Flo'll understand, if you don't. Eben, you look after things here. Ye might as well keep the sail up as thar's no wind. If it comes on to blow, ye can lower it. I'll be on hand bright an' early in the mornin' so's to catch the tide. We kin drift, even if thar's no wind. Come on, Martha, let's go."



CHAPTER X

UNWELCOME VISITORS

After he had eaten his supper, Eben washed his few dishes and went out on deck. He sat down upon one of the blocks of granite and looked out over the water. It was a beautiful evening, with not a breath of wind astir. The river shimmered like a great mirror, its surface only ruffled when an occasional motor-boat hurried by, and the little steamer "Oconee," on her regular evening trip from the city, ploughed past and blew for a wharf a short distance beyond. A noble river is the St. John, enwrapped with the halo of romance and deeds of daring. In days long ago it bore upon its bosom the light canoes of Indians as they journeyed to and fro for trading or warlike purposes. It felt the surge of larger vessels, both of England and France, during the stirring days when those two nations contended for the supremacy of a virgin land. Later it saw the slow-creeping boats of hardy pioneers, Loyalists, who came to make for themselves homes in the wilderness. Its shores re-echoed to the shouts and songs of sturdy raftsmen in the days when acres of great logs were floated down to the sea. It had cradled upon its bosom fleets of boats, their white sails swelling to every wind that blew. These were gradually replaced by noisy steamers and tugs until only a few remained, of which the "Eb and Flo" was one.

To an imaginative mind the history of such a river would be sufficient to thrill the soul. But to the youth sitting there alone upon deck it meant nothing. In fact, he did not notice the beauty of the evening, nor the soft calmness which surrounded him. His mind was upon other things. He was thinking of the scene which had just been enacted on board the boat. He was in a rebellious mood, and now, as often before, quietness and deep thought were his two choice friends. He glanced occasionally toward the shore and up to the little cottage nestling among the trees. It was his home, and yet he had little affection for the place. It was there he had received food and shelter nearly all his life, but no sweet memories clustered around that little house. He had always been misunderstood, and he could not recall the time when he had not been scolded for everything he did. His mother was a woman who did her duty according to her light, and looked well after the bodily welfare of her family. But she overlooked the fact that people need more than bread and clothing, and that eternal scrubbing, washing and dusting do not make a real home. For the first time in his life he felt a deep pity for his father as he thought of the stern inquisition he was no doubt undergoing. And Flo, too, would have much to say, for her mother had moulded her according to her own design.

"Poor dad must be having a lively time of it now," he mused. "I wish he'd show a little more spunk, an' stand up fer his rights. Ma an' Flo'd think more of him if he did. I don't believe all women act that way. I wonder——?"

His thoughts trailed off to the one girl who had ever stirred his soul. How different she was from his own sister, he thought. He felt quite sure that she would not always be finding fault with everything he did. His eyes glowed with a new light, and his heart beat faster as he remembered how interested she had been in his drawings. Then his feelings underwent a swift change. He was nothing to her. She never once thought of him after she met Hampton at the quarry. And he had struck her instead of his enemy! Would she ever learn the truth? he wondered.

A low rumble of thunder in the distance aroused him. He looked off toward the right. The sun had gone down, and big black clouds were massing in the distance and rolling up from the west. The thunder was becoming more audible, while flashes of lightning were already splitting the air. He was well accustomed to such storms, which at times came up suddenly after a day of intense heat. They were generally accompanied by a heavy wind, and he remembered, how twice that very summer the "Eb and Flo" had dragged her anchor when hit by a furious gale. The first time she had, drifted out into the main channel, and they only had time to hoist sail and get her under way. On the second occasion she had gone ashore, and barely escaped a pile of rocks. Fortunately it had been low tide, so when the water rose, a passing tug had pulled her off, undamaged. The anchor was too small, and his father had often spoken about getting a larger one. But this he had neglected to do, principally because of the expense. Had there been good anchorage at Beach Cove, Eben would have felt more at ease. But he knew that the bottom here was gravelly and would afford but a poor hold for the best of anchors. A louder rumble of thunder fell upon his ears.

"It'll soon be here," he muttered. "Guess I'd better lower the sail. It won't do to have it up when the squall strikes."

He rose to his feet and was making his way across the pile of stones, when a motor-boat sputtered near, and slowed down close alongside. There were two men on board, one steering, and the other at the engine.

"Is this the 'Eb and Flo'?" the former asked.

"Guess so," was the reply. "What d'ye want?"

At once the motor-boat was made fast to the deck-rail, and the two men climbed on board. Such liberty was not at all pleasing to Eben. His fists doubled and his eyes expressed anger. He recognised one of the visitors as Donaster, the man from whom Jess Randall had fled. He did not like the look upon his face nor his insolent manner. What right had these men to come on board the "Eb and Flo"? he asked himself. He felt in a fighting mood, but he realised that he could do little, for Donaster's companion was a big burly fellow, of the fighting type. All this passed quickly through his mind as he stepped back and waited to see what the men would do. He did not have many seconds to wait, for Donaster, after peering keenly around as if expecting to see someone else, turned impatiently toward Eben.

"Have you a young woman on this boat?" he asked.

"S'pose I have, what bizness is it of yours?" Eben retorted, now more angry than ever.

"You'll know d—— quick whether it's my business or not if you don't answer my questions."

"I don't have to. This boat's me own, an' I kin have anyone I like on board. You clear out of this."

"Don't get insolent, you young cuss. Keep a civil tongue in your mouth or it won't be well for you. I want to know if you have a young woman on board?"

Eben did some quick, hard thinking just then. A spirit of natural shrewdness came to his assistance, and a sudden idea flashed into his mind. He could not fight these men single-handed, and win. He must get them at a special disadvantage, and there was only one way in which this could, be accomplished. He thought of the cabin.

"S'pose I have a woman on board, what of it?" he asked.

"We want her; that's all."

"Well, then, ye'll have to find her yerselves. Don't frighten her," and he motioned aft.

"What! In the cabin?" Donaster was much excited now.

Eben merely nodded, and stepped back.

"Come on, Bill," Donaster ordered. "I suspected she was here."

So intent were the two men upon their search that they paid no more heed to Eben, but hurried at once toward the cabin. Had they been the least suspicious and glanced back, they might have been more cautious. They would have seen the young man they despised as of no account following, his face clouded with anger, and bearing in his hands a stout stick he had picked up from the deck. But sure of themselves, the visitors reached the cabin and descended. No sooner had their heads disappeared below the hatchway than Eben leaped forward, and stood menacingly on guard above. In his hands he clutched the stick and waited. He heard the men groping around below.

"It's as dark as h—— down here," Donaster was saying. "Hustle on deck, Bill, and fetch that fool down to give us a light."

The man at once obeyed, but no sooner had he placed his right foot upon the bottom step than a roar of warning greeted him from above. It was Eben's voice, and there was no doubting its meaning.

"Come up an' I'll brain ye," he roared.

Instinctively Bill drew back, while an exclamation of annoyance and fear escaped his lips. In the twilight of evening he could see the threatening lad above and the uplifted stick.

"Here, none of that, you fool," he cried. "What's your idea?"

"Come up an' I'll show ye. But I guess ye'll stay there all right. Mebbe I'm not sich a fool as ye think. Ye know now who owns this boat, don't ye?"

The men were in a trap, and knew it. They were very angry and threatened and cursed in the most violent manner. But the more they raved, the more satisfied Eben became. It was rare sport, and he was enjoying it. But he was determined for all that, and if the men had ventured up the stairway he certainly would have knocked them down.

The peals of thunder were now becoming louder and more frequent. The intense calmness was ominous of the coming storm. Eben glanced uneasily toward the west and then forward. He knew that the sail should be down, but he did not dare to leave his post even for a minute. The men were whispering to each other. What they said he could not make out, but presently he heard the scratching of a match, and a light flared up. They were searching for a lamp, which they soon found and lighted. He knew that they could only escape from their prison by means of the door, for his father had built the upper part of the cabin exceptionally strong to keep out thieves when the boat was lying at her wharf in the harbour.

A vivid flash of lightning rent the air, followed almost immediately by a tremendous crash of thunder. From the cabin came a howl of fear, and looking down Eben could see two frightened faces staring up at him.

"For God's sake, let us up out of this hole!" Donaster pleaded. "We'll smother here."

"Jist stay where ye are," was the reply. "Ye got yerselves into this fix, an' ye'll have to make the best of it."

"But the lightning might strike the boat," Donaster argued.

"It would serve you divils right if it did. But, heavens, the storm's upon us!"

He slammed to the cabin door, and securely bolted it.

He next leaped across the deck-load and tore loose the halliard. Instantly the sail came down with a rush, the gaff striking the boom with a bang. Across the hills came the storm. It could be heard a mile or more away, and in a few minutes the first drops of rain pattered upon the deck. Eben struggled to gather together the sail as it flopped in the first fitful gusts of wind and make it secure. But before this could be accomplished the storm was upon him. The thunder was terrific and the lightning incessant. The rain descended in torrents, and the wind whipping across the deck, caught the half furled sail and drove the boom with a thud to the full length of its sheet. In a few minutes Eben was soaked to the skin as he leaned against the mast for support. But he thought little of himself. His only concern was for the "Eb and Flo" as she reeled beneath the storm and strained heavily at her anchor.



CHAPTER XI

IN PERIL OF DEATH

The storm which raged with unabated fury for a full half hour was one of the severest ever experienced on the St. John River. Hail mingled with the rain, and did considerable damage to the crops which happened to be caught in its on-rushing sweep. Trees were blown down, as well as several buildings, and in a number of farm houses the glass in the windows was broken by the fury of the driving hail.

While the storm was at its height, Eben sought shelter in the lee of the cabin. This afforded him some protection, and from here he watched anxiously to see how the boat would bear herself. During vivid flashes of lightning the whole country around became illuminated, and he glanced occasionally toward the shore upon his right. He had never been afraid of a thunder storm, so it did not affect him now. In fact, he rather enjoyed it, for it harmonised with the state of his mind. If only the anchor would hold; that was his sole concern. He thought of his prisoners within the cabin, and chuckled. He knew what a noise the hail was making upon the roof, and he could hear the men pounding at times upon the door and begging to be released.

Another quivering flash, followed instantly by a more terrific roar of thunder, told Eben that something had been hit not far away. He caught a glimpse of the trees along the shore and then all was dark. But that fleeting vision was enough to cause him to straighten suddenly up. The "Eb and Flo" was drifting before the wind! Another flash showed that she was making fast for the main channel, and something had to be done at once to save her. It was high tide now, he was well aware, and should the boat, heavily loaded as she was, ground on the soft marshy flats across the river, it would be next to impossible to get her off again. Apart from the valuable cargo, the loss during the busy carrying season would mean much. He must get the boat under steerage way, and head her down stream.

It took him but a second to reach the cabin door and tear it open. A bright flash showed him two white faces at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hustle up here, an' give a hand," he ordered.

"W-what's wrong?" Donaster asked, shaking with fear.

"Never mind what's wrong. I ain't got time to explain. Git a move on."

The men at once obeyed, scrambled up the steps, and tumbled on deck.

"Come on," Eben commanded. "Follow me."

This, however, was no easy thing to do, for the two men found it most difficult to make their way across the blocks of stone. The lightning blinded and dazed them so much that they often stumbled and fell, so by the time they reached their guide who was standing by the halliard, their bodies were bruised in a number of places.

"Lay hold on this rope," Eben ordered. "We've got to hist the sail or this boat'll be aground. Now, pull fer all yer worth."

"Without a word the two men did as they were bidden, and as the sail slowly rose it flapped wildly in the wind, and threatened to tear itself loose from the yards. Fortunately at this critical moment the wind lulled for a brief spell, which enabled them to accomplish the task, and make the halliard fast.

"Now come over here," Eben again commanded. "I want ye to look after the sheet-line." He darted across the deck, the men following him as fast as possible. "Look after this rope," he continued, "an' do jist as I say." He then sprang aft, and laid hold of the wheel.

Although this had taken but a short time the "Eb and Flo" had already drifted into the main channel and in a few minutes she would have been aground on the opposite shore. A quick turn of the wheel caused the boat to fall off to the left, and presently she was under way, headed down the river. And not an instant too soon, for scudding through the rough water she cleared by only a few yards the edge of the soft ground. With sail hauled closer than was safe, she sped forward and at length reached a wider stretch of water. Eben breathed a deep sigh of relief when the danger was past, and he steered the boat a little more to the left. The two men at the sheet obeyed his every command, and he smiled to himself as he remembered how high and mighty they had been when they boarded the boat that evening.

The storm was now rolling away to the east, and the wind was lessening. But still there was a fine sailing breeze, so by exercising special care, Eben was able to make good progress as he beat from side to side of the river. He was well acquainted with the course, and he was greatly helped by the steady gleam of a lighthouse ahead. He made up his mind to keep on sailing all night, and thus reach the city early the next morning. If the wind held firm, he knew that he could run on longer tacks where the river was wider in the lower part of the Reach and in Grand Bay. He was certain that his father would be very anxious in the morning when he found that the "Eb and Flo" had disappeared. But he would show the folks at home that he could be depended upon, and could handle the boat in an emergency. He would go to the city, discharge his cargo and return in triumph to Beech Cove. Just what to do with his passengers he was not sure. At first he felt inclined to report them to the police. But upon second thought, he decided to let them go. But for their assistance he would not have been able to save the boat, and he was somewhat grateful to them now. In fact, he felt quite friendly with his visitors.

"How d'ye feel?" he at length called out, just after he had taken another tack for a long run across the river.

"Wet to the skin," Donaster angrily replied. "When are we to let up on this job? I'm sick of it."

"Same here," his companion agreed.

"Well, I guess ye'll have to make the best of it, me hearties. We'll reach the city early in the mornin', if the wind holds. Ye kin change yer clothes then."

The men made no reply, but Donaster, leaving Bill to manage the sheet, scrambled over to Eben's side.

"My, it's confoundedly dark and nasty to-night," he growled. "It's absolutely beastly."

"Don't like it much, eh?" Eben queried. "Ye got more'n ye expected, didn't ye?"

"Should say I did. But I thought you had Miss Randall on board. Where in h—— is she, anyway? You know, don't you?"

"So it's her ye was lookin' fer, was it?"

"Certainly. Didn't I tell you so?"

"No, ye didn't. Ye only asked me if I had a woman on board."

"Oh, well, you understood all right, so you needn't make believe you didn't. You knew I was looking for Miss Randall."

"But she's dead, isn't she?"

"Dead! When did she die?"

"Why, they was searchin' fer her body down river."

Donaster laughed, and reaching out laid his hand upon Eben's arm.

"Say, stop your fooling, will you? Miss Randall's not dead. She ran away, and came on board this boat. Own up now, like a good fellow."

"What did she run away fer?"

"Because she doesn't want to marry me. She's acted very foolishly, and I'm bound that she shan't escape. I shall find her, no matter where she is."

"Did she promise she'd marry ye?"

"No, she never did. But her parents said I could have her."

"She doesn't love ye, then?"

"Love, be d——! What do I care about love? There's no such a thing as love. It's the girl I want. Love has nothing to do with it."

Eben made no reply. His attention was taken up with bringing the boat around for a short starboard tack, and in giving orders to Bill. When she was running steadily once more, his mind reverted to what he had just heard. So the girl had thrown over Donaster, too, he mused, the same as she had treated him at the quarry. He felt a certain degree of sympathy for the man. Why should he not help him, and take her away from Hampton? It would be some satisfaction, for the spirit of revenge was still rankling in his soul. But Donaster didn't love her. He had said that there was no such a thing as love. He knew that the man was wrong, for he himself loved the girl as he had never loved anyone before. She meant everything to him, and his life was bleak and desolate since she had left the boat. Why should Hampton have her?

"Look here, you haven't answered my question." It was Donaster speaking.

"What question?"

"I asked you where Miss Randall is. I am sure you know."

"Yer mistaken, then. I don't know where she is." Eben suddenly remembered the stone he had hurled through the window. He realised that the less he said the better it would be. If he should commit himself in the least degree as to what he knew about Miss Randall, he was certain that Donaster would continue to bother him with no end of questions.

"But surely you must know where she is," the man persisted. "I am positive that she went up river with you on this boat. What became of her after she left you?"

"I told ye I don't know where she is. Ye'll have to go an' find her yerself, if yer so interested in her."

Several times during the night Donaster attempted in vain to wrest the secret from Eben, and his failure made him angry. Lack of sleep, his wet clothes, and the stubbornness of the boy annoyed him. But he could do nothing, so at length, giving up in despair, he went down into the cabin, and lighted a fire in the little stove, for he was very chilly. And there he crouched, leaving the work of looking after the sail to his companion. Selfishness bulked large in his nature, and this was never more apparent than now. His own comfort was the first consideration, no matter how much others might suffer.

After midnight the last clouds rolled away and the stars appeared. The gale subsided to a fair sailing breeze, and the "Eb and Flo" ploughed steadily on her way. Eben was tired as he stood hour after hour at the wheel, and he knew from the motion of the man tending the sail that he too was weary. There was nothing else, however, for them to do, and so without a word of complaint each kept at his task.

Dawn found them at the entrance to Grand Bay, the largest body of water in the entire river. From here a long close-hauled tack would bring them to the Narrows, a rocky gorge-like formation leading to the noted Reversible Falls below. The tide now was running down, and this greatly aided the boat in her onward sweep. Far away in the east the sky rapidly reddened, and the light of a new day was dispelling the shades of night. Eben's heart caught the glow of the rising sun, and a spirit of elation possessed him. He had brought the boat in safety this far, and in another hour he hoped to have her tied up at one of the wharves, ready to slip through the falls when the tide served.

Just before entering the Narrows, Eben called Donaster up from the cabin. He had to shout several times before he received any response, for the man had fallen asleep in his chair. He stumbled sleepily on deck and looked around.

"Why, we're almost to the city!" he exclaimed.

"Sure. Ye didn't imagine we was tied up to a tree, did ye?"

Donaster walked to the side of the boat and looked over.

"I forgot all about the motor-boat last night," he remarked. "But I see it hung fast all right."

"An' a wonder it did," Eben replied. "The rope must have been a good one. It held better 'n the anchor. Guess it's gone fer sure."

"Chain break?" Donaster queried.

"Something's gone, that's certain. We're not draggin' the anchor, anyway. We couldn't git this fer with the anchor towin' below. It would have caught in something or other an' brought us up if it had been there. But it ain't there. The chain must have snapped an' let the boat go adrift. It broke once before an' dad fixed it with a piece of wire. Now we've got to buy a new anchor, an' mebbe a new chain. It doesn't pay to botch things, does it?"

Donaster made no reply, but stood looking straight before him. He had not heard Eben's words, for his mind was upon matters of more importance to him than an old chain and anchor. They were gliding down the Narrows now, the wind and current bearing them rapidly along. They had reached the first turn and had swung sharply to the left, when the first glimpse of the city appeared to view. In another quarter of an hour they hoped to be at one of the wharves, and the boat tied up.

The current was much swifter now, and Eben was becoming anxious. He knew the danger of the place, and hitherto his father had always piloted the "Eb and Flo" through the Narrows. If the breeze would only hold, he could easily make thee wharf. Should it fail, there would be serious trouble as the current would bear them rapidly down to the falls. But so far the wind served, and the boat sped steadily forward. A few minutes more and the wharf would be reached. Eben felt quite safe now, and the anxious expression disappeared from his face.

But such was not to be, for in a twinkling the wind died down, and the sail hung limp and useless. With a startled cry, Eben gave the wheel a rapid turn and headed the boat for the shore, hoping thus to escape from the racing current into slower water to the left. But the "Eb and Flo" was in the grip of a stronger master, and swinging partly around, obeyed the current's strong behest. Leaving the now useless wheel, Eben rushed to the side of the boat and lifted up his voice in a series of ringing calls for help. He was heard on shore, and he saw men running to and fro. Several tugs were lying at their wharves, but no smoke issued from their funnels. What was he to do? He looked ahead, and the wild, boiling, leaping waters of the falls seemed terribly near. Instantly he thought of the motorboat. It would save them. But Donaster and his companion had thought of it first and were already on board. The rope was almost untied when Donaster called to him.

"Come with us. This is our only chance. Hustle."

Only for a second did Eben hesitate. He was young and life was dear. But he must not leave. He was in charge of the "Eb and Flo," and no true commander ever deserted his post of duty. He would not be a coward. The engine was already started, and the propeller was churning the water.

"Hurry up," Donaster impatiently ordered.

"I'm not going," was the reply. "Hustle yourselves."

"Are you crazy, boy? It's sure death down there!"

"Can't help it. I'm goin' to stay."

Donaster was about to further insist, when Bill stepped quickly forward, shoved him roughly aside, and tore away the rope from its fastening.

"Leave the fool if he doesn't want to come," he growled. "We can't waste any more time."

The motor-boat immediately left the "Eb and Flo," and was soon bucking across the current to the left. Eben watched them as if in a dream. He felt now that nothing could save him, for no one could go through the falls at almost low tide, especially on a stone laden boat, and live. The roar of the leaping waters was pounding in his ears, and the boat was moving more rapidly than ever. In a few minutes all hope of rescue would be past, for the tide was now running like a mill-sluice.

Eben was standing near the bow of the boat, his heart beating fast, and his face white as death. How often he had heard his father tell of the boats which had gone through the falls, and those on board had never been heard of again. Great whirlpools below, so it was believed, had sucked down their bodies into vast underground passages. And soon his body would be there! The thought was appalling, maddening. His eyes were riveted upon the breakers ahead. They fascinated him as they leaped and curled. Their roar sounded like voices of demons, and the dancing spray appeared like long white curving hands reaching out ready to grasp their victim.

Suddenly above the thunder of the waters a hoarse blast rent the air. Eben turned, and as he did so his heart gave a great bound, for there but a short distance away was a powerful tug. Where she had come from he did not know. Neither did he care. It was enough for him that she was near, with men standing on the bow with coils of ropes in their hands. They shouted aloud, but he could not understand what was said. The tug was coming across the current, and running a fearful risk in attempting the rescue. Then a rope was flung across the bow of the "Eb and Flo," and in a twinkling Eben was upon it. Never in his life had he pulled so hard and fast, for everything depended upon his efforts now. How long that rope seemed to be. He could hear the shouts of the men on the tug, and they seemed to be words of encouragement. The rope was long, and the warp, for which he was pulling, was dragging heavily in the water. Could he get it aboard? Would he have the strength? These thoughts passed through his mind with lightning rapidity. But still he kept on, and ere long he had the joy of seeing the big hook loom in sight. Then an almost superhuman pull, and the warp was on deck, and securely fastened around the capstan. A shout went up from the tug when this had been accomplished, and Eben staggered back, exhausted by his mighty efforts. He saw the warp suddenly tighten, and felt the "Eb and Flo" swerve to the right. Would the line hold? That was the all-important question now. The strain was terrible, and the rail over which it passed snapped like matchwood. It creaked, as it bit into the deal below, and at times Eben imagined he could see the strands parting. Fortunately it was a new rope and held firm as the tug battled its way against that racing current. Inch by inch it moved, dragging its heavy, helpless burden from the jaws of destruction. There were no shouts now on board the tug, for in the presence of so great a danger and with so much at stake lips were silent.

Eben stood like a statue near the capstan, his eyes fixed upon that straining warp, to him the rope of deliverance. He knew that it was holding, and that the tug was making better headway now. The crisis was past, and in a few minutes he felt sure that he would be safe. Neither was he mistaken, for ere long the tug escaped the deadly current by drawing somewhat to the left. Then from the shore he heard cheers and shouts of excited men who had gathered there. Several blasts from the tug sounded forth as signals of her success, as she triumphantly ploughed her way to a wharf on the right.

Eben could not recall very clearly what happened after that. He heard numerous voices as the boat was being tied up, saw as in a dream men crowding on board, and listened to their questions and words of congratulation. He was dazed by the confusion, and longed to be away by himself that he might think. He was only able to do this, however, when the crowd had departed, and he was left alone upon deck. He had not deserted his post of duty, and a thrill of pleasure swept over him at the thought that he had been true to his trust. Then his mind turned suddenly to Jess Randall. He wondered if she would ever hear of what he had done, and if she did, would she be proud of him?



CHAPTER XII

CORNERED

Donaster had finished his dinner, and was deep in an evening paper in the smoking-room of the Fundy Hotel. So intent was he upon the article he was reading that he allowed his cigar to go out, a most unusual thing for him. But there was a reason, for he was reading a vivid account of the daring rescue which had been made early that morning on the brink of the falls. It occupied two pages of the paper, describing accurately and in detail all that had taken place. It told of the thunder storm up river, of the breaking loose of the "Eb and Flo," the run to the city, and the noble action of Eben Tobin, who would not desert his post of duty. Donaster breathed more freely when he found that his own name was not mentioned. The paper merely stated that two men had escaped by means of a motor-boat after they had been unable to induce the young commander to go with them. Much praise was given to the men on the tug for the great risk they had run in making the rescue. When he had read the article through for the second time, he laid the paper aside, re-lighted his cigar, and sat for some time in deep thought.

During the whole of this time Gabriel Grimsby had been sitting not far away watching Donaster most intently. He was much better dressed than on the evening he had presented himself before Mrs. Randall and demanded payment for his silence. His face still bore the placid expression of peace and contentment, while his eyes beamed their goodwill to all. Anyone observing his manner might have mistaken him for a visitant from another world, clothed in human fashion, and mingling for a time in the ways of men. Such was the outward appearance of Gabriel Grimsby, the stand-between.

After a while Donaster rose and made his way into the billiard-room at the rear of the building. He was an expert player, and soon was deeply engaged in his favourite game. Grimsby followed, and for a time stood and watched the game. Then he went back to the smoking-room, resumed his seat, and brought forth, a handful of papers from an inside pocket of his coat. Glancing furtively around to see if anyone was watching, he selected a newspaper clipping and read it through very carefully. It told of the mysterious disappearance of Miss Jess Randall, the only daughter of Henry Randall, the noted lumber merchant. It was believed that she had drowned herself near the Randall's summer home along the river, and men were already searching for her body. Grimsby next referred to another article, written a day later, which told of the unsuccessful search for the body of the missing girl. A smile overspread his face as he read this, and he glanced toward the billiard-room. He evidently knew something which was giving him considerable satisfaction. He believed that Donaster would play for some time yet, so there was no hurry.

Slipping the newspaper clipping back into his pocket, Grimsby picked up three letters and read them through. His smile was more pronounced, now, and the light of triumph gleamed in his eyes. He felt proud of himself, and his chest slightly expanded with the spirit of importance. "Gabriel Grimsby," he said to himself, "you hold the trump-card all right this time. You may be of no account, but you know a thing or two, and it's up to you to make the most of your knowledge. But, hello! here comes the sucker."

Donaster left the hotel, and went at once to his lodging-place. It was only occasionally that he went to the Fundy for his meals, and this evening was one of them. He could not afford to go often, much as he would have liked to do so. He had to be careful until he had secured Jess Randall, and then he could indulge himself to his heart's content. That he should eventually win her, he had not the slightest doubt. Her father and mother were on his side, so what could a girl do against such a strong combination. After this escapade she would, no doubt, be glad to return and obey their wish. Thus he reasoned as he sat alone in his room that night.

A knock sounded upon the door, and when it was opened Grimsby entered. He greeted Donaster in a free and easy manner, and without waiting for an invitation, sat down and helped himself from a package of cigarettes lying upon the table. Donaster stared at him in amazement, for a minute dumbfounded by such unheard-of impudence. Then he rose to his feet, and angrily approached the visitor.

"Who are you?" he demanded, "and how dare you come here?"

Grimsby smiled, flicked the ashes from his cigarette, and waved his hand.

"Don't be afraid, sir; I won't hurt you. I'm as harmless as a dove."

"H'm, I have no fear of you. I want to know what you mean by your impudence in coming into my room unbidden?"

"Impudence! Impudence, do you say?" and Grimsby assumed a look of astonishment. "Why, I have a special right here. I don't need any invitation."

Donaster stared at the intruder, uncertain whether to class him as a fool or a madman. Grimsby divined his thoughts and his eyes twinkled more than ever.

"Yes," he continued, "duty leads me into many places, and sometimes I receive rebuffs. But when a man has a great mission, such as mine is, he bears all things patiently. Patience is a great virtue, sir. It is worthy of cultivation."

"What in h—— are you driving at?" Donaster roared. "What has 'mission' and 'patience' to do with your visit here? If you don't explain at once I'll kick you out of the room or have you arrested."

"Go slow, young man, go slow." The smile passed suddenly from Grimsby's face, and his eyes contracted. "I am here on business, special business, and it concerns you. Sit down, and I shall come to the point at once. There, now, keep cool, and do as I say. That's better," he added, when the angry man had reluctantly obeyed. He leaned over and looked Donaster full in the eyes.

"You want to marry Miss Randall, do you, not?"

Donaster gave a start, and stared at his visitor for a few seconds.

"Well, what business is it of yours if I do?" he demanded. "What right have you to ask such a question? I can attend to my own affairs without any interference from you or anyone else."

"No, ye can't, young man, and that's why I'm here. You can't marry Miss Randall without my assistance. I'm a stand-between, you see, and so have come to your assistance."

Donaster's face suddenly brightened, and he looked keenly at Grimsby.

"Do you know where Miss Randall is?" he eagerly asked.

"Ah, I thought I'd fetch you," and Grimsby smiled. "Do I know where Miss Randall is? Well, we can consider that matter later. I want to know first of all if you want to marry her?"

"Certainly I want to marry her. Do you think I'm a fool?"

"Very good, very good," and Grimsby rubbed his hands, a sure sign of his satisfaction. "That point's settled. But the girl's not agreed, so I understand. Is that so?"

"I'm afraid it is. However, her parents are willing, and they are the main ones."

"Why do they wish you to marry their unwilling daughter?"

"Why? Oh, that's quite clear. They know it will be to her advantage."

"In what way?"

"From a social point of view. As the wife of Lord Donaster's son she will occupy a very high position. She will be received into the best families, and eventually she will be Lady Donaster. You see, I am an only son, so the title will come to me. You can readily understand how anxious her parents are for the consummation of the marriage."

"Certainly, certainly; it is only natural. I suppose you have explained to them your prospects?"

"Yes, I have often talked the matter over with them and they are perfectly satisfied. The title and the social position appeal to them very strongly."

"And in return?" There was a peculiar expression in Grimsby's eyes as he asked the question, which Donaster failed to notice.

"Oh, they have agreed to settle a dowry upon their daughter in consideration of the favours she will receive."

"A large sum, I suppose."

"Yes, quite satisfactory to me. But what has this to do with your visit? There is no reason why I should tell you all this, and I cannot understand myself for doing so. Anyway, it relieves my mind to talk it over with someone."

Grimsby did not at once reply. He helped himself to another cigarette, lighted it and smoked for a few minutes in silence. Donaster was becoming impatient. He was tired after his experience on the river the night before, and he wished to be rid of his visitor. But he was anxious to know what he wanted. He felt that this man knew where Miss Randall was, and he must find out before he left.

"And so you hope to make Miss Randall Lady Donaster?" Grimsby at length questioned.

"That is my intention. Why do you ask?"

"But what if you never will be Lord Donaster? What then?"

"Why, what do you mean? I shall inherit the title as soon as my father dies."

"But suppose you have no right to the title?"

Donaster gave a distinct start. Then he laughed.

"H'm, you needn't worry about that. Just you wait."

"But suppose you are not Lord Donaster's son?" Grimsby's question was very deliberate, but it had an immediate effect.

"Not his son! What are you driving at, anyway? Stop your nonsense. If I am not Lord Donaster's son, who am I, then?"

"You are an impostor, that's what you are. There is no Lord Donaster. Your father is a shoemaker in the State of New Jersey. I have proof, so you needn't try to deny it."

Donaster had now risen to his feet. He was trembling violently, and his face was as white as death.

"For God's sake!" he gasped, "how did you learn all this? Who are you, anyway?"

"Never mind who I am," and Grimsby smiled with satisfaction. He was succeeding better than he had expected. "You know what I say is true."

"Does anybody else know this?" Donaster asked. "Have you told anyone?"

"Not yet."

"Not yet! Then you intend to do so, I suppose?"

"Why not? Should not Mr. and Mrs. Randall know at once what a vil——, excuse me, what an impostor you are?"

"Don't, don't tell them! For the love of heaven, keep this a secret. They must not know. It will ruin me."

"What am I to do, then?"

"Say nothing. Keep silent."

"Ah, now you are coming to the point. That's why I'm here. Yes, I will keep silent, but what will you pay for my silence. Let's get down to business at once."

"So you want money, eh? How much?"

"That all depends, sir, upon how much you are able to pay."

Donaster looked at Grimsby for a minute without replying. He was angry, and he longed to kick this fellow out of the room. But he knew he had to be cautious if he expected to secure the prize. He must muzzle him somehow until then, otherwise he would spoil his chance completely.

"I am afraid I can pay you but little," he at length confessed. "I am rather hard up myself."

"Oh, that's all right, sir. I'm not hard to please. Let's be partners and divvy up. Give me half of what you have, and I'm at your command. Then, when you get the girl—and the money—you can give me some more." Grimsby's eyes twinkled as he made this suggestion, and he watched to see the effect upon Donaster.

"And you promise that you'll not squeal on me if I do this?"

"Sure. I'll do almost anything for money—like yourself, eh?"

"Do you think you can find the girl?"

"Leave that to me, sir. You came down river on the 'Eb and Flo,' didn't you?"

"How did you hear about that?" Donaster quickly queried.

"H'm, don't ask me how I find out about things. I generally know what's taking place. Eben Tobin's quite a lad, eh?"

"He certainly is. You know him, then?"

"Should say so; ever since he was a baby. Guess he has a pretty good idea where that girl is."

"He told me he didn't."

"Ah, he'd tell you that. But just wait till I get hold of him. You didn't go about it the right way. He's in a class all by himself, Eben is."

"And will you see him?" Donaster was all eagerness now.

"But what about that money? I'm hard up. You can't do much without money these days. It makes people talk when nothing else will. How much can you spare?"

Donaster thought for a few minutes, and his brows wrinkled.

"I've only five hundred in the bank," he at length explained. "You'll have to wait until to-morrow for any of that."

"Five hundred! My, that seems a fortune to me. Where did ye get it? Steal it?"

Donaster shot a quick startled look at his companion as if he would read his mind. Then he gave a nervous laugh.

"Never mind where I got it," he warded. "Don't ask too many questions."

Grimsby leaned across the table and looked keenly at his victim.

"I won't ask any more questions, sir. But I believe you are a bigger rogue than I imagined. It's even necessary for me to be on my guard. How much money have you on hand now?"

"About fifty dollars."

"That's good. I'll take half, according to our agreement."

Donaster hesitated for a few seconds, but at length pulled a roll of bills from his pocket and counted out twenty-five dollars.

"Now, make me out a cheque for half of what you have in the bank," Grimsby ordered as he pocketed the money. "I want to draw it as soon as the bank opens in the morning."

Donaster at first protested, but Grimsby was firm, and threatened what he would do.

"I shall give you just five minutes to do what I wish," he told him. "Otherwise, I shall go at once to Mrs. Randall. Make up your mind, and be quick about it."

Very reluctantly Donaster obeyed, and made out a cheque payable to Gabriel Grimsby. The latter held it in his hand and studied it carefully for a few minutes after he had received it. He smiled as he looked at Donaster. "We are getting along nicely now, are we not? But there is something else I want you to do."

"For heaven's sake! what is it?" Donaster angrily and impatiently asked.

"Give me a piece of paper and a pen: I will write it down."

When these were produced, Grimsby wrote rapidly, Donaster watching him somewhat curiously.

"Listen to this," he ordered when he had finished.

"'One week after the date of my marriage with Miss Randall I promise to pay Gabriel Grimsby the sum of one thousand dollars for services rendered.'"

"There, how will that suit you?" he asked, "You'll sign that, of course. It's just a little inducement to urge me to greater efforts."

Donaster sat for some time in silence. He seemed to be in deep thought, and his brows knitted with perplexity.

"Do you think you can find Miss Randall?" he at length asked.

"I have no doubt about it," Grimsby replied. "Leave that to me."

"But I want you to do more than find her."

"What do you mean?"

"Yes, you must do more than find her. That will not be enough. You must arrange matters in such a way that she will need help, see?"

"So you will be on hand to rescue her?" Grimsby smiled. He was pleased at himself for his quick intuition.

"That's just it. You must arrange things in such a manner that she will think I am her rescuer from great peril. Then, perhaps, she will look upon me with favour. You see, I am not at all sure of her, even though she should be taken home. I begin to doubt whether her parents will be able to induce her to marry me against her will. Do you think you can help me?"

"Certainly; I have never been stuck yet. Leave it to me. I shall go up river to-morrow, so you hang around here, and when I need you I shall telephone. Have an auto in readiness, and come like the wind when I phone. But you must sign this paper first."

"And you want one thousand dollars? Isn't that a large amount?"

"Large! Why, man, I am astonished at myself for not asking more. Unless you sign this, I shall not assist you."

Seeing that Grimsby was determined, Donaster reluctantly signed the paper and handed it back.

"There, I hope you're satisfied now," he growled.

"I am." Grimsby smiled as he folded the paper, and put it away carefully in his pocket. "Hope to goodness it won't be long before I present it for payment. Good night. I must be off."



CHAPTER XIII

A TRICKY PASSENGER

The "Eb and Flo" had come through the falls at high tide, and was lying at one of the wharves above. Eben was in great spirits. He had taken the boat through the falls the day before, discharged the cargo, and had brought her safely back. He had made this call for Gabriel Grimsby, who had arranged with him early that morning to take him up river. As Eben sat upon deck, his hand at times slipped into the right pocket of his trousers and touched the crisp ten dollar bill Grimsby had paid him for his passage. It was more money than he had ever had in his life, so he felt quite rich and important. Just why Grimsby had given him that amount he did not know. Neither did he care. It was good to have so much, and he was happier than he had been for days. He thought of what he would buy with the money, and his mind turned naturally to a new coat, for his best Sunday one was old and worn. He wanted a new pair of boots, nice shiny ones, like city people wore, and not the rough clumsy kind such as his father had always bought. He pictured to himself the look of surprise and admiration upon Jess Randall's face should she see him so well dressed. His Sunday vest, collar and trousers were new, so the coat and boots were all he needed.

Grimsby was late in coming, and when he did at length arrive, it was almost noon. He carried a small grip in his hand, which he placed upon the deck, and went down into the cabin where Eben was preparing dinner.

"Hello," he accosted. "Thought I was never coming, I s'pose?"

Eben grinned as he turned from the frying-pan where several pieces of bacon were sizzling. He had always liked Grimsby, and the thought of the ten dollars made him more friendly than ever.

"Guess yer in time fer dinner, Gabe," he replied.

"Yer always on time fer that, eh?"

"Indeed I am. My! that bacon smells good. And what bread! Did your mother make it?"

"No, Flo cooked that. She certainly does know how to make bread. But, fall to, now, an' help yerself. This bacon's done."

A gentle breeze favoured the "Eb and Flo" as she left her wharf, ran up through the Narrows, and headed out into Grand Bay. It was a perfect summer afternoon, and Grimsby, seated on deck, with his back against the cabin, smoked a cigar to his heart's content. It was a Club Special he was smoking, a rare treat to him. But with so much money in his pocket, he had indulged himself that morning by buying a box of his favourite brand. He felt very prosperous, and contented with himself and the whole world.

"Did ye ever smoke?" he asked Eben, who was standing at the wheel.

"Naw. I tried it once, but it made me sick. Dad licked me fer it, too."

"My, ye miss a lot in life," and Grimsby gave a sigh of satisfaction as he blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "Smoking is a great soother of the nerves, it certainly is."

"Ma doesn't like terbaccer," Eben volunteered. "She says it smells up the house awful. Flo says she'll never marry a man who smokes."

"She won't, eh?" and Grimsby laughed outright. "I s'pose she'll make her husband buy her chocolates instead."

"Most likely. Flo's mighty fond of choc'lates. She'd eat 'em all the time if she could git 'em. She's allus beggin' me to bring her a box every time we come from the city."

"She's just like all girls; they like sweet things. That's the reason, I guess, they like me. I'm always sweet with the girls. It pays. Hand me that grip, will yon? I want to show you something I've got for a pretty girl."

Eben reached over, and handed the grip to Grimsby. The latter slowly opened it, and brought forth a box, wrapped up in paper. He untied the string, and held forth a box of chocolates for Eben's inspection.

"Like one, eh?"

"Y'bet. Me mouth's waterin'."

"Then, it'll have to water. These are for a prettier mouth than yours, let me tell you that. My! you should see her, 'specially when she's eating candy."

"Your wife?" Eben asked.

Grimsby shook with laughter, as he carefully placed the paper back upon the box, and returned it to the grip.

"No, no, no, not for my wife this time, Eben. It's for someone else, a special friend of mine. She's up river now, and I'm going to see her. She's in a class all by herself, though just now, poor girl, she's in trouble."

"She is?" Eben was becoming interested.

"Yes, she ran away from home, you see, and her folks don't know where she is. Why, what's wrong, boy? You look scared."

"D'ye mean Miss Randall?" Eben asked. "Are them choc'lates fer her?"

"Ah, you're a good hand at a guess, Eben," and Grimsby smiled. "Yes, I'm taking them to her. She'd never forgive me if I forgot them. Why, I've known Jess Randall ever since she was a baby," he lied. "She calls me 'Uncle Gabe.'"

"She does!" Eben was more impressed than ever with Grimsby.

"Oh, yes, she's a great friend of mine. She must be waiting for me now, so you can pull up and run me ashore when we get there. She phoned to me to come at once, as she wants to see me on special business."

"I'm goin' to stop, anyway," Eben replied. "Dad'll be waitin' fer me. He went ashore with ma."

It was only with difficulty that Grimsby repressed a chuckle of delight. He could hardly believe it possible that Eben had fallen so easily into his snare. But as he glanced at the boy he saw not the slightest sign of suspicion upon his face. Eben's hands were upon the wheel, and his eyes were fixed upon a steamer coming down river. Grimsby was certain now that Miss Randall was at Mrs. Hampton's. So far he had met with remarkable success. He wondered how much further he dare go.

"Guess it'll he some wedding," he ventured. "I'll have to get a brand new suit."

"What weddin'?" Eben asked.

"Why, don't you know? Miss Randall's, of course. She's going to marry Lord Donaster, that swell dude of a chap."

"She's not!" The words snapped, from Eben's lips, and his hands gripped hard upon the wheel as he swung the boat somewhat to the left, while the steamer surged by.

"What makes you say that?" Grimsby questioned. This was the first glimpse he had caught of the boy's feeling, and he surmised its meaning.

"D'ye think she'd marry a thing like Donaster?" Eben contemptuously asked. "She's got more sense."

"So you know her, then?" The question caught Eben off guard, and his face suddenly flushed. Grimsby smiled. "She came up with you, on your last trip, didn't she?"

"How d'ye know that?" Eben's hands let go of the wheel in his amazement.

"Oh, I know everything. But I guess you're right, Eben. Miss Randall will never marry Donaster. He's after her good and hard, though, so it's up to you and me to help her."

"In what way?"

"She and John Hampton are in love with each other, I understand. Can't we do something to keep Donaster away? He's a deep-dyed villain, that's what he is, and we must not let him bother Miss Randall. He thinks that I'm going to help him out."

"How?" Eben hardly knew that he had asked the question. He was thinking deeply, and wondering why he should help Grimsby. Had not Miss Randall left him for Hampton? The thought rankled in his soul. Why should another have her when she was so much to him? He was aroused by his companion.

"Say, lad, what's the matter with you? I've asked you two questions, and you seem to be stricken dumb. What are you thinking about? Not in love yourself, are you?"

Eben grinned sheepishly, and his face crimsoned a deeper hue than ever,

"What were ye askin' me, Gabe? Guess me mind must have been wanderin'. It goes off sometimes an' fergits to come back. It's bad havin' a mind lake that, isn't it?"

It certainly is, and a sure sign that a man's in love, so I've been told. Now, look here, Eben, are you in love with Miss Randall? There, now, don't get excited. It's only natural. I was young once meself."

"Why d'ye ask me that, Gabe? What makes ye think I'm in love with her?"

"From your actions, boy. And say, if you're in love with Jess Randall, then by the jumping moon, I'm going to help you to get her. I don't care a rap for Donaster or anyone else. I've known you ever since you were a kid, and I've a fancy for you, so there."

Eben made no reply, but stood staring straight before him. During the last few days a notable change had come over this awkward youth. The influence of a deep passion had transformed him from boyhood to manhood, and he was now able to view things in a different light. He did not want Donaster to have Jess Randall, so it was necessary for him to do all in his power to keep her out of his grasp. As for himself he knew there was not the slightest hope that she could ever care for him. And why should she? He had only known her for a brief space of time, and why should such a girl feel any stirring of the heart for such a clown as himself. He knew that he was tall, ungainly, roughly clad, and ignorant. His hands clutched hard upon the wheel as he thought of all this, and an expression of determination overspread his face. A vision of the girl, her beauty, the light in her eyes, and her gentle encouraging voice rose before him. She had been kind to him, and had been interested in his drawings. Between him and her there was a vast gulf, and he knew it. But she had been kind to him. That idea kept repeating itself over and over again in his mind. What could he do to repay her? "Keep Donaster from getting her," came the answer. Yes, but what else? "Help her in her love for Hampton." But in what way? Grimsby broke his reverie.