He usually got up between four and five o'clock in the morning; but he did not wake till he heard his father's voice in his chamber. He had been so tired after the hard work he had done on the beach, and lying awake till after midnight, he had overslept himself.

"Come, Leopold; it is after seven o'clock," said Mr. Bennington, in the rather sad and gloomy tones which the misery of his financial trials had imposed upon him.

"Seven o'clock!" exclaimed Leopold, leaping from the bed. "I didn't go to sleep till after midnight, and that's the reason I didn't wake up."

"You needn't get up if you don't feel able to do so," added the landlord.

"O, I'm able enough," protested Leopold, half dressed by this time.

"I should like to have you go down and see if you can get some fish for dinner," added his father.

"All right. I will get some, if there is any in the sea," answered the young man, as he finished his primitive toilet.

In fifteen minutes more, he had eaten his breakfast, and was descending the steep path to the river, where the Rosabel was moored. The weather was cloudy, and out at sea it looked as if the fog would roll in, within a short time, as it often did during the spring and summer. Indeed, the one bane of this coast, as a pleasure resort, is the prevalence of dense and frequently long-continued fog. Sometimes it shrouds the shores for several days at a time; and it has been known to last for weeks. It is cold, penetrating, and disagreeable to the denizen of the city, seeking ease and comfort in a summer home.

When the sloop passed Light House Point, Leopold saw that the dense fog had settled down upon the bay, and had probably been there all night. But he did not bother his head about the fog, for he knew the sound which the waves made upon every portion of the shore. As one skilled in music knows the note he hears, Leopold identified the swash or the roar of the sea when it beat upon the rocks and the beaches in the vicinity. By these sounds he knew where he was, and he had a boat-compass on board of the Rosabel, which enabled him to lay his course, whenever he obtained his bearings.

Before the sloop had gone a quarter of a mile she was buried in the fog, and Leopold could see nothing but the little circle of water of which the Rosabel was the centre. With the compass on the floor of the standing-room, he headed the sloop for the ledges, outside of which he expected to find plenty of cod and haddock. The wind was rather light, but it was sufficient to give the Rosabel a good headway, and in half an hour he recognized the roar of the billows upon the ledges. Going near enough to them to bring the white spray of the breaking waves within the narrow circle of his observation, he let off his main sheet, and headed the sloop directly out to sea.

The best fishing ground at this season was about two miles from the ledges; and with the wind free, Leopold calculated that he had made this distance in half an hour. He had cleared away his cable, and had his anchor ready to throw overboard, when the hoarse croaking of a fog-horn attracted his attention. The sound came from the seaward side of him, and from a point not far distant.

The Rosabel was provided with one of those delectable musical instruments, whose familiar notes came to her skipper's ears. It was rather a necessity to have one, in order to avoid collisions; besides, it is fun for boys to make the most unearthly noises which mortal ear ever listened to.

Leopold blew his fog-horn, and it was answered by a repetition of the sound to seaward. The craft, whatever it was, from which the music came, was much nearer than when the skipper of the Rosabel first heard the signal. This satisfied him that she was headed to the north-east, and was nearly close-hauled, for the wind was about east; in other words, the craft from which the melody of the fog horn came was standing from the sea directly towards the ledges off High Rock.

Leopold blew his horn again and again, and the responses came nearer and nearer every time. The craft was evidently bound up the bay, or into the Rockhaven river. If she was going to Rockland, or up the bay, she was very much out of her course. If she was going into the river, she was more likely to strike upon the ledge than to hit her port.

"Ahoy! Ahoy!" came a hoarse voice, apparently pitched from the note of the fog-horn.

The skipper of the Rosabel judged that the craft was not more than an eighth of a mile from him.

"Ahoy! Ahoy!" he shouted in reply, at the top of his voice.

Leopold had hauled down his jib, and thrown the sloop up into the wind, in preparation for anchoring; but he concluded not to do so, in view of the peril of being run down by the stranger. On the contrary he hoisted his jib, and filled away again, so as to be in condition to avoid a collision. Resuming his place at the helm, he stood out towards the fog-hidden vessel. The hail was repeated again and again, and Leopold as often answered it. In a few moments more he discovered what appeared to him to be the jib of a schooner. Her bow was of shining black, with a richly gilded figure-head under the bowsprit. A moment later he discovered the two masts of the vessel. The mainsail was set, but the foresail was furled, and she was apparently feeling her way with great care into the bay. A sailor in uniform was heaving the lead near the fore rigging.

Leopold saw, as soon as he obtained a full view of the vessel, that she was a yacht of at least a hundred tons and as beautiful a craft as ever gladdened the heart of a sailor. There were a dozen men on her forecastle, and as the Rosabel approached her, a procession of gentlemen, closely muffled in heavy garments and rubber coats, filed up the companion-way, doubtless attracted to the deck by the incident of hailing another craft.

"Schooner, ahoy!" shouted Leopold, as soon as he had made out the vessel.

"On board the sloop!" replied the voice which resembled the tones of the fog-horn.

"Where you bound?" demanded the skipper of the Rosabel.

"Belfast."

"You are a long way off your course, then," added Leopold, with emphasis.

"Will you come on board?" asked the speaker from the yacht.

"Ay, ay, sir, if you wish it," answered Leopold.

"Hard down the helm!" shouted the hoarse voice, which we may as well say in advance of a nearer introduction, belonged to Captain Bounce, the sailing-master of the yacht.

"What schooner is that?" called Leopold, as the yacht came up into the wind.

"The yacht Orion, of New York," replied Captain Bounce.

The skipper of the Rosabel ran under the lee of the Orion, and came up into the wind all shaking. Leopold threw his painter to the uniformed seamen of the yacht, and then hauled down his jib.

"Where are we?" asked Captain Bounce, rather nervously for an old salt.

"Two miles off the High Rock ledges; you were headed directly for them," replied Leopold, as he let go the halyards of the mainsail.

When he had secured the sail, he ascended the accommodation steps, which the seaman had placed on the side for his use. One of the hands carried the painter of the Rosabel to the stern of the Orion.

"I don't know where we are now," said Captain Bounce, who was a short, stout man, with grizzly hair and beard, both reeking with moisture from the fog; and he looked like the typical old sea-dog of the drama.

"Do you know where we are, young man?" asked one of the gentlemen who had filed up the companion-way.

Leopold started suddenly when he heard the voice and turned towards the speaker.

"Of course I do, Mr. Hamilton," replied Leopold, briskly. "I reckon you don't know me, sir."

Leopold took off his old hat, and bowed respectfully to the gentleman, who was muffled up in an immense overcoat with a long cape.

"I do not," added the Hon. Mr. Hamilton, with a puzzled expression.

The skipper of the Rosabel thought it was very strange that the honorable gentleman did not recognize him; for he did not consider that he had grown three inches taller himself, and that the distinguished guest of the Cliff House met a great many people in the course of a year.

"Don't you know my boat, sir?" asked Leopold, laughing as he pointed astern at the sloop.

"I do not."

"Well, sir, that's the Rosabel. You have sailed in her more than once."

"O, this is Leopold, then!" exclaimed Mr. Hamilton. "You ought to know where we are."

"I do, sir; and I know that you were headed for the High Rock ledges. I can prick your position on the chart."

"He knows all about this coast, Captain Bounce," added Mr. Hamilton, turning to the Sailing-master. "He will be a safe pilot for you."

"Well youngster, we are bound to Belfast," said the sailing-master, thrusting his fists deep down into the pockets of his pea-jacket.

"I am not a pilot to Belfast," replied Leopold; "but you must keep her west-half-north for Owl's Head, nine miles from here. There are islands and ledges all around you."

"We have had enough of this sort of thing," interposed Mr. Hamilton, evidently disgusted with his experience. "We have been feeling our way in this fog for twenty-four hours. I would give a thousand dollars to be in Belfast at this moment."

"I don't believe the best pilot on the coast would agree to take this yacht up to Belfast in this fog for twice that sum," added Leopold. "One of the Bangor steamers, that goes over the route every day, got aground the other night."

"I never was on this coast before, Mr. Hamilton, as I told you before we sailed from New York," said Captain Bounce, apologetically; "but if I had been here all my life, I couldn't find my way in a sailing vessel in such a fog as this."

"O, I don't blame you Captain Bounce," added Mr. Hamilton, who was the owner of the yacht.

"I have kept you off the rocks so far; and that was the best I could do."

"You have done all that anybody could do, Captain Bounce, and I have no fault to find with you. But the ladies are very uncomfortable; they are wet, and everything in the cabin is wet with the moisture of this fog. We are very anxious to get to some good hotel, where we can remain till the fog has blown away," continued Mr. Hamilton.

"You can go into Rockhaven, sir," suggested Leopold.

The Hon. Mr. Hamilton smiled gloomily, and shrugged his shoulders, for he knew how limited were the accommodations in the old Cliff House.

"Your hotel would not hold us, Leopold," said Mr. Hamilton. "Our party consists of fifteen persons. We must get into Rockland, some how or other."

"We have a new hotel, Mr. Hamilton," interposed Leopold.

"What's that?"

"The Sea Cliff House. It is the Cliff House rebuilt and enlarged. We have fifty rooms now, besides new parlors and a new dining-room. The house has been furnished new, and my father means to keep a first-class hotel. He has raised the price to three dollars a day, so that he can afford to do so. We have some rooms built on purpose for you, sir."

"Indeed! But your father always kept a good house, though it was not big enough."

"You won't find any better hotel in Rockland or Belfast than the Sea Cliff House, Mr. Hamilton," said Leopold, confidently.

"Then let us go there by all means," added the owner of the Orion. "Can you take the yacht into the harbor, Leopold?"

"I can sir."

"Are you sure?"

"Certainly I am."

"We don't want to be thrown on the rocks."

"I can go into the river with my eyes shut, any time, sir."

"Very well. Captain Bounce, here is your pilot."

"All right Mr. Hamilton. All his orders shall be obeyed," replied the sailing-master.

"Hoist the jib, then, if you please, and head her to the north-east," added Leopold.

"To the north-east!" exclaimed Captain Bounce. "You said the ledges were in that direction."

"I know they are; but I can tell just where to find them."

"We are not anxious to find them," added the sailing-master.

"I am, for I take my bearings from them. Trust me as your best friend, Captain Bounce, and you shall throw over your mud-hook, in just an hour from now, in the river, off Rockhaven."

"All right; the owner says you are the pilot, and I haven't a word to say," replied the captain. "Forward there! Hoist the jib! At the helm!"

"Helm, sir!" replied the quarter-master.

"Keep her north-east."

"North-east, sir."

Leopold turned at that moment, and discovered a bundle of shawls and water-proofs emerging from the companion-way.

"Leopold Bennington! I'm glad to see you!" exclaimed the bundle, in a voice which the young pilot promptly identified as that of Miss Rosabel Hamilton.

"Thank you, Miss Hamilton. I'm happy to see you again," stammered Leopold, rushing up to the bundle, in which he could hardly make out the beautiful face and form of Rosabel.

"You have come to get us out of an awful bad scrape. We have no fire in the cabin, and are wet through, and nearly frozen. I'm so glad we met you!"

"I'm glad to meet you too," said Leopold. "I'm sure I didn't expect to see you out in this fog. But I'm the pilot of this yacht now and if you will excuse me, I will go forward, and attend to my duty."

"Certainly. Don't let me keep you," answered Rosabel, in those sweet, silvery tones which made Leopold's heart jump. "I shall be so glad when we can see a good, warm fire!"

The young pilot did not like to leave her; but he felt the responsibility of the position he had assumed, and he hastened forward. The Orion was moving along through the water at the rate of about four knots an hour. Leopold walked out on the bowsprit as far as the jibstay, and there seated himself. Rosabel, apparently deeply interested in his movements, followed him as far as the forecastle.

"What are you going to do out there, Leopold?" she asked.

"I'm going to keep a lookout for the ledges, which are ahead of us; and as I have to use my ears, I must ask you not to speak to me any more. Excuse me, but I might not hear the breakers soon enough, if I were talking," added the pilot.

Rosabel excused him, and returned to the cabin, for the cold fog made her shiver, even within her bundle of clothing. Leopold listened with all his might, and in less than half an hour he heard the surges on the ledges, faintly, at first, in the distance.

"Breakers ahead!" shouted Captain Bounce.

"I know it; trust your best friend and don't be alarmed," replied Leopold. "There is water enough here to float a seventy-four."

He allowed the Orion to proceed on her course, till he could hear very distinctly the breakers on the ledges, and was sure they were the High Rock ledges.

"Starboard the helm, and start your sheets," shouted the pilot.

"High time, I should say," growled Captain Bounce, as he gave the necessary orders, and the Orion fell off to her new course.

"Keep her north-west," added Leopold, as he just saw the ledges whitened with sea foam.

He still retained his position on the bowsprit, with his attention fixed upon some point on the weather-bow.

"That's it! Dip point!" said he, as he listened to the breakers. "Keep her nor'-nor'-west!"

Ten minutes later, he ordered the fog-horn to be blown, and a reply came off from the light-house on the point, at the mouth of the river. When the Orion was clear of the point, he directed the yacht to be close-hauled on the starboard tack, in order to beat into the river. The first reach brought her to the high cliff near the hotel, and after a "short leg," he fetched the anchorage off the wharf.

"Let go your jib-halyards!" shouted Leopold. "Hard down the helm! Let go the anchor!"

The Orion swung round to her cable, and the pilot went aft.



CHAPTER XII.

AN EXTENSIVE ARRIVAL.

During the run of the Orion, from the time that Leopold assumed the charge of her till the anchor buried itself in the mud of the river, the owner and the passengers remained in the cabin. They were all city people, and to them the fog was even more disagreeable than a heavy rain. It was cold and penetrating, and the pleasure-seekers found it impossible to remain on deck. They were actually shivering with cold, and perhaps for the first time in their lives realized what a blessing the sunshine is. But Captain Bounce was on deck, and, standing on the forecastle, he nervously watched the progress of the yacht. Doubtless he felt belittled at finding himself placed under the orders of a mere boy, even though the pilot was as polite as a French dancing-master.



When the Orion changed her course off the ledges, he caught a glimpse of the dangerous rocks, upon which he had heard the beating surf for a moment before. From that time he did not see anything which looked like a rock or a cliff. Even when the yacht swung around to her anchor, the shore could not be seen from her deck, so dense was the fog.

Captain Bounce had not much confidence in the skill of his pilot. He had not seen the rocks and cliffs which line the coast, and had no idea of the perils which had surrounded him. Whenever Leopold ordered a change in the course, he could just hear the murmuring sea breaking on the shore; but the old sea-dog expected the vessel would be thrown upon the rocks every moment. He was prepared to act upon an emergency of this kind, and had actually arranged in his own mind his plan of procedure, when the order to let go the jib-halyard indicated that the pilot intended to anchor.

Captain Bounce looked about him, but he could see nothing which looked like a town, a port, or a harbor. He was so obstinate in his incredulity, that he was inclined to believe the young man in charge had given up the attempt to find Rockhaven as a bad job, and intended to anchor under the lee of some island. He obeyed the orders given him by the pilot, however. The chain cable ran out, and when its music had ceased, one of the church clocks in Rockhaven struck ten. Captain Bounce heard it distinctly, and of course the sound from a point high above him in the air overwhelmed him with positive proof that the young pilot knew what he was about.

"Ten o'clock!" shouted Leopold, walking up to the captain of the yacht. "We have been just five minutes short of an hour in coming up."

Leopold looked at his silver watch, which was the gift of Herr Schlager, and rather enjoyed the perplexity of the sailing-master.

"I don't see any town," said Captain Bounce, going to the rail, and gazing into the fog, in the direction from which the sounds of the church clock had come.

"You heard the clock on the Methodist church strike—didn't you?"

"I heard that."

"Well, sir, we are in the river; and it is a crooked river, too. You can't take a boat and pull in a straight line in any direction without running on the rocks," added Leopold.

"I'm glad we are in a safe harbor," continued the old sea-dog, but in a tone which seemed to belie his words, for he was not quite willing to believe that the boy had piloted the vessel four or five miles, without even seeing the shore a single time.

"When did you leave New York, Captain Bounce?" asked Leopold.

"Three days ago. We had a fine run till we went into the fog yesterday morning. The wind was contrary, and in beating my way up I lost my reckoning. I have been dodging the breakers for twenty-four hours. I was afraid of a north-easterly storm; and if I had had no women on board, I should have come about, and run out to sea. As it was, I had to feel my way along."

"You are all right now," added Leopold, as he saw the owner and passengers coming up the companion-way.

"You have brought us in—have you, Leopold?" said Mr. Hamilton.

"Yes, sir. You are in the river, off Rockhaven, though you can't see anything," replied the young pilot.

"You have done well; and you are fully entitled to your pilotage," added the ex-member of Congress.

"I don't pretend to be a pilot for pay," protested Leopold.

"You have brought the yacht into port, and here is your fee," said Mr. Hamilton, putting some bank bills into his hand.

"No, sir!" exclaimed Leopold; "I don't want any money for what I have done. I am not entitled to any pilot's fees."

"Yes you are, just as much entitled to them as though you had a warrant or a branch. Now go to your hotel, and have everything ready for us as quick as you can. We are wet and cold, and we want good fires," continued Mr. Hamilton.

"But this money—"

"Don't stop another moment, my boy," interrupted the rich merchant. "If your father's hotel is as good as you say it is, we may stay there a week."

Under this imperative order, Leopold thrust the bills into his pocket, and leaped into the Rosabel. He had anchored the Orion off the wharf, in the deep water in the middle of the river, so that her boats could conveniently reach the landing-steps near the fish market. Hoisting his mainsail and jib, he stood down the river.

"Come and help us get on shore!" shouted Mr. Hamilton, as the Rosabel was disappearing in the fog. "We can't find the wharf."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied Leopold.

In a few moments he had anchored the sloop at her usual moorings, secured the sails very hastily, and was climbing the steep path to the road. In spite of the pride which had prompted him to refuse it, the pilot's fee was a godsend to him, or, rather, to his father, for he determined to give the money to him immediately. He took the bills from his pocket, and found there were three ten-dollar notes. His heart leaped with emotion when he remembered what his father said—that he had not seen twenty dollars at one time for a month. The landlord actually needed the money to make purchases for the comfort of his new guests.

Leopold was almost beside himself with joy, and he rushed up the steep, rocky path without regard to the proper expenditure of his breath. Puffing like a grampus, he reached the road, and then ran with all his might, as if the Sea Cliff House was on fire. He rushed into the office, and flew about the house like a madman. His father was nowhere to be seen; but he spent only a moment in looking for him, and then darted out into the wood-shed. Filling a bushel basket with wood, chips, and shavings, he carried it into the big parlor, and lighted a tremendous fire in the Franklin stove. Another was made in the large corner apartment up stairs, with two bed-rooms en suite, which he always called Mr. Hamilton's room. He piled on the wood with no niggardly hand upon these, and four other fires he kindled in as many of the best rooms in the house.

Calling the chambermaid to attend to those up stairs, he returned to the public parlor, where he piled up the wood again.

"What under the sun are you doing, Leopold?" demanded his father, while he was thus occupied.

"Making fires," replied the son, vigorously. "I have kindled five up stairs."

"But what under—"

"Never mind now, father," interposed Leopold. "Fifteen folks from New York will be here pretty soon, and you must be ready for them."

"Fifteen!" exclaimed the landlord, who had been mourning over the fog, which promised to deprive him of the few guests who might otherwise come over to Rockhaven in the steamer.

"Yes, sir, fifteen; and they are Mr. Hamilton's party."

"Good gracious!" exclaimed the astonished and delighted proprietor of the Sea Cliff House.

"But I must go down to the wharf, and help get them ashore," continued Leopold, so excited that he could hardly speak. "They are cold and wet, and want good fires."

"I'll see to the fires Leopold. But where in the world did they come from in this fog?"

"They came in a yacht. I went off about two miles from the ledges after cod and haddock, and picked them up there. They had been knocking about in the fog for twenty-four hours. I brought the yacht into the river, and Mr. Hamilton gave me thirty dollars for pilot's fees. Here's the money, father."

"But, Leopold," added the landlord, as he involuntarily took the bills, "this is your money, and—"

"Never mind, father. We mustn't stop to talk about it now," interposed the son, vehemently. "If you will have the house ready, I will go and bring up the folks. Send the wagon down to the wharf as quick as you can."

Leopold waited for nothing more, but ran down to the wharf as fast as his legs would carry him, and arrived almost out of breath. To his astonishment, he found quite a number of people gathered there, for it had just been discovered that a large yacht had anchored in the river. Squire Moses and Ethan Wormbury were there, the latter to look out for the interests of the Island Hotel. Leopold borrowed a skiff belonging to Mr. Bangs, and pulled off to the Orion. Both of her boats had been lowered from the davits, and hauled up at the accommodation steps, in readiness to convey the ladies and gentlemen to the shore.

"We are all ready for you at the Sea Cliff House, Mr. Hamilton," said Leopold, us he stepped upon the deck.

"Shall we find a good fire in the parlor?" asked the ex-Congressman.

"Yes, sir, and in your rooms, too," replied Leopold. "We call it warm weather down here; but I piled on the wood to suit your case."

"I am so glad to come here again!" said Rosabel, stepping up to Leopold. "I am very much obliged to the fog for sending us to Rockhaven."

"I shall consider the fog one of my best friends after this," laughed Leopold; and he conducted the young lady to the gangway.

"Father says you have a new hotel; and I hope we shall stay here all summer."

"The Sea Cliff House, folks say, is about as good as anything on the coast; and I hope the new hotel will suit you well enough to keep you here a long time," said the gallant young man, as he assisted Rosabel down the steps and into the stern-sheets of the boat.

"It would be so delightful to stay here all summer, and have the yacht, so that we could sail about the bay!"

Leopold assisted the other ladies—of whom there were not less than seven—to their places in the two quarter-boats of the Orion. The whole party was disposed in both of them, and the landlord's son led the way to the wharf in the skiff, which was reached in a few moments. Leopold was on the landing-steps in time to assist the ladies when the first boat came alongside the platform, and the whole party were soon on the wharf.

"Who are all these people, Leopold?" asked Squire Moses Wormbury, as the young man was ascending the steps.

"Mr. Franklin Hamilton's party from New York," replied the young man hastily.

"Island Hotel, sir?" said Ethan Wormbury, approaching one of the gentlemen, whose wife was leaning upon is arm; "best hotel in the place, sir, and close to the wharf."

"If it is the best hotel in the place, that is where we wish to go," replied the gentlemen, with a slightly foreign accent in his tones.

"This way, if you please, sir," added Ethan, with enthusiasm, as he began to move up the wharf.

"Doctor," called Mr. Hamilton, "where are you going?"

"To the hotel. Thin man says he keeps the best one in this place."

"We are all going to the Sea Cliff House," added the chief of the party.

Ethan gnashed his teeth with rage, and so did the squire, his father. It was really horrible to see the whole party going to the Sea Cliff.

"How do you do, Mr. Hamilton?" said Squire Moses, extending his withered hand to the New York merchant. "Glad to see you come down to the old place once in a while."

"Ah, how do you do, Squire Wormbury?" replied Mr. Hamilton, taking the offered hand. "I mean to come down here every year."

"My son keeps the Island Hotel," insinuated the squire. "He don't make quite so much show as Bennington, but he will take good care of you, and feed you better. Folks that know say he keeps the best house. And Bennington has raised his price to three dollars a day; the Island Hotel is only two."

Moses Wormbury considered the last argument as by far the most powerful one he could present. How any man could help wishing to save a dollar a day on his board, was more than the squire was able to comprehend.

"I have already spoken for rooms at the Sea Cliff House, and they have made fires in them for us," replied Mr. Hamilton, unmoved by the old man's powerful appeal.

"Ethan will give you a fire, and not charge you anything extra for it, as they do at Bennington's," added the squire. "He can accommodate the whole party if you will sleep two in a bed. You will save at least fifteen dollars a day by going to the Island Hotel."

"As we have spoken for rooms at the Sea Cliff House, I think we ought to go there," answered the New Yorker, rather coldly, unmoved by the economical considerations of the squire.

"Stage all ready, Mr. Hamilton," interposed Leopold, who had listened with painful anxiety to a portion of the old man's arguments.

The "stage" was a long wagon, like an omnibus, but with no top; and Ethan saw, with an aching and an angry heart, the entire party of fifteen crowd into this vehicle. Squire Moses was not only vexed, he was downright mad. At any time it would have annoyed him, as well as Ethan, to see fifteen "arrivals" go to the "other house," and not a single one to the Island Hotel. To the old man it was doubly grievous at the present time, for every day the party staid at the Sea Cliff House would put at least forty-five dollars into the pocket of its landlord; and he was afraid Mr. Bennington would be able to pay his interest money on the day it was due. He wanted the new hotel for his son, if he could get it cheap enough, that is, for one third or one half of its value. This dawning of prosperity upon the Sea Cliff was, therefore, very unwelcome to the squire and his son.

Leopold leaped upon the box with the driver as soon as the passengers were all seated, and the two horses tugged up the steep hill from the wharf with the heavy load. On the level road above, the excited teamster put the whip upon his horses, and dashed up to the hotel at full gallop. Fifteen arrivals at once, at this time in the year, was very unusual, and everybody about the hotel was thrown into a fever of excitement. The landlord stood upon the piazza, with no hat on his head, bowed and scraped, and helped the ladies out of the wagon. The party were shown to the parlor, which the roaring fire had heated to a fever temperature, so that the perspiration stood upon the landlord's brow when he entered it. In the mean time Leopold had hastened to his room to change his clothes, and make himself presentable to the party.

"This is delicious—isn't it?" said one of the ladies, when she felt the warm air of the parlor.

"It feels like a new world," added another.

"What a blessing it will be to be warm and dry once more!" put in a third.

"We have made fires in your rooms, ladies," interposed the polite landlord, doubly courteous under the avalanche of good fortune which had fallen upon him. "I will show you your rooms as soon as you wish."

"Let us get warm before we do anything," said Mr. Hamilton, removing his heavy coat. "You have a very nice house, Mr. Bennington."

"We think it is pretty fair down here," replied the modest landlord. "We have a parlor up one flight, with a bed-room on each side, which Leopold always calls 'Mr. Hamilton's rooms.' I think they will suit you; at any rate, I fitted them on purpose for your use."

"That was very considerate," laughed the merchant.

"The three rooms will just accommodate your family. I have four other parlors, not quite so large, with one bed-room to each," continued the landlord, looking around at the New Yorkers, as if to ascertain their wants. "Of course you needn't have private parlors, if you don't want them. I have plenty of nice single rooms."

"We want the private parlors," replied Mr. Hamilton. "I did not expect to find such accommodations in Rockhaven."

"I think I know what a hotel ought to be," added the landlord. "By and by, if our guests don't want private parlors, we shall put beds in them."

"Squire Moses says you have raised the price," laughed the rich merchant.

"Yes, sir: I couldn't afford to keep such a house as I mean to keep at two dollars a day in these times."

"You have done quite right, and the price is very reasonable."

"I shall have to charge five dollars a day for the parlors, if anybody wants them."

"Certainly; that is also proper; and we want five of them. Now I will go to the office, and enter the names on the register," said Mr. Hamilton.

Their were five gentlemen with their wives, two single gentlemen, two young ladies, and one young gentleman of sixteen. Rooms were assigned to them according to their several needs, and all the party expressed themselves as delighted with their accommodations. The furniture was not costly, but it was neat and comfortable. The beds were clean, and everything was in good order. The baggage, which the boats had brought ashore after landing the passengers, was conveyed by the wagon to the hotel. In less than an hour, the guests were all comfortable and happy.

Mr. Bennington was on the jump all the time, and so was Leopold. The landlady, who was also the cook, was "spreading herself" to the utmost upon the dinner. They all knew that the success of the house depended in a very great measure upon the satisfaction given to these wealthy and influential guests. The landlord, however, knew better than to waste his strength upon mere "style," for he could not expect to equal that to which his present patrons were all accustomed at home. He wanted the best of meats and vegetables, well cooked, and served hot. He knew very well that a teaspoonful of string beans, mashed potato, stewed tomato, or green peas, in a miniature dish, placed before a guest after it had been standing half an hour on the pantry table, was not eatable; and he governed himself accordingly.

At dinner the guests appeared modestly dressed, and it would have been difficult to identify in them the bundles of water-proofs, shawls, and overcoats which had landed at the wharf. Leopold had put on a "biled shirt," as he called it, and dressed himself in his best clothes. To him was assigned the duty of waiting upon Mr. Hamilton and his family. In his "store clothes" Leopold was a good-looking fellow, and he was remarkably attentive to the wants of Miss Rosabel.

The dinner proceeded satisfactorily to the new guests, as to the old ones. Dr. Heilenwinder declared that the soup was marvellously good; and when he learned that Mrs. Bennington, who made it was a German by birth, its excellence was explained to him.

The fog and rain continued for three days, and the ladies of the party hardly ventured out of the house. The bowling alleys and billiard tables were in constant use, and every evening, in the large hall connected with the hotel, there was a dance, to which Mr. Hamilton invited many of the town's people. It was fun and frolic from morning till midnight; and no party weather-bound in a hotel ever enjoyed themselves more.

The fourth day was bright and pleasant.



CHAPTER XIII.

THE EXCURSION TO HIGH ROCK.

The yacht party which had come to Rockhaven in the Orion, in spite of the fog and the rain, appeared to be very happy. If they were aristocratic in the metropolis, they were not so in their summer resort. Though the party was large enough to enable them to "have a good time" without any assistance from outside of the hotel, they invited many of the people of Rockhaven to join them in their indoor amusements. As Mr. Hamilton was a native of the town, he was quite at home there, though he had been absent from his boyhood. In addition to the dancing, the billiards, and the bowling, one of the gentlemen of the party was an elocutionist, and gave several "readings" in the parlor. A celebrated writing-master, who was a guest at the hotel, gave an exhibition of his sleight of hand tricks, in which he was almost as skillful as in the use of his pen. At the end of the third day it was voted that, in spite of the weather, the party had enjoyed themselves to the utmost. Mr. Bennington and Leopold were unremitting in their efforts to make the guests comfortable and happy.

But in spite of the enjoyment within doors, the New Yorkers were glad to see the sun shine again. For the first time since their arrival they were permitted to gaze upon the rugged and beautiful scenery of the island. They were delighted with the cliffs, and with the views from them. Most of the party spent the day in rambling about the town and in climbing the rocks; but the younger members of it insisted upon something more exciting. When Leopold carried their coffee to Rosabel and her friend Isabel Peterson, at the breakfast table, he found them very much excited. They were talking together with a furious enthusiasm, though there was to be no wedding, or even a grand ball.

"We want to go to High Rock right off after breakfast," said Rosabel; and it appeared that the high spirits of the young ladies were produced simply by the anticipation of this excursion.

"In the Rosabel?" asked Leopold.

"Yes, certainly," answered Miss Hamilton.

"I will be ready for you," added the skipper.

"High Rock is such a delightful place!" exclaimed Rosabel, turning to Isabel again. "I went there twice last summer; and I never enjoyed myself so much as I did in climbing the rocks, and looking out upon the ocean. I want you to see the place at once, Belle."

"I shall be delighted to go, especially if we are to sail in the Rosabel," replied Miss Peterson. "Isn't it a nice thing to have a boat named after you!"

"Of course it is a very great honor," laughed Rosabel, as she shook back the affluence of wavy auburn locks which fell upon her shoulders. "Leopold is a real good fellow."

"He is a very good-looking fellow, too," added Isabel, in a lower tone. "His face is handsome, and if he were only dressed in good style, he would be magnificent."

"I think he is nice now," said Rosabel, candidly, and without a blush, for the little beauty was conscious of nothing but a kindly regard for the landlord's son.

"He doesn't talk a bit country, and isn't clumsy and awkward, like many young fellows away from the city."

"His manners are as pleasant as those of any young man I ever met. Do you know, Belle, he speaks German?"

"What, Leopold!"

"He knows how to speak it a great deal better than I do, though he never studied it in school, as I have for two years."

Leopold had left the dining-room for a moment, so that he did not hear any of this conversation, and therefore had no idea how well he stood in the estimation of these young ladies. Of course they did not intend that he should know; and the next remark of Isabel, to the effect that she wished he was not a "waiter," would certainly have hurt his feelings. Leopold had gone into the office, where he found a boy waiting for a chance to set up pins in the bowling alley, whom he sent for Stumpy, with directions for him to have the Rosabel ready immediately for the excursion to High Rock. Stumpy often went with him, and, as he intended to wear his good clothes on the trip, he wanted his help on this occasion.

As soon as breakfast was finished, Leopold was ready. His passengers were to be Rosabel, Isabel, and Charley Redmond, a young man of seventeen, and the son of one of the New Yorkers in the party. The sloop was all ready when they reached the river. Stumpy had hoisted the mainsail, and hauled her up where the passengers could embark without difficulty.

"Why, she is a real nice boat!" exclaimed Isabel, as she seated herself in the standing-room.

"I told you she was," replied Rosabel.

"Quite nobby," added Charley Redmond, with a patronizing tone, as he adjusted his eye-glasses, for he was either near-sighted, or fancied that the glasses added to his dignity and importance. "I dare say this rustic is quite a boatman."

"He may be a rustic, but he is not so green as you are, Charley Redmond," added Isabel, indignantly; but she spoke for her friend rather than for herself.

The "rustic" did not hear any of these remarks, for after helping the girls to their seats, he had gone to cast off the cable which Stumpy was hauling in. But Leopold did not like Charley Redmond, for the young gentleman was a person of ten times as much importance, in his own estimation, as his father. He was supercilious, and, unlike the rest of the party, looked down upon the boatman, and everybody else in the town.

"Of course you couldn't expect much of a fellow down here," added Charley.

"He knows twice as much as you do," retorted Isabel, as the skipper took his place at the helm, thus putting an end to the conversation.

"Now shove her off, Stumpy," said Leopold.

"Stumpy!" ejaculated Charley, with a laugh. "That's a romantic name."

"His name is Stumpfield Wormbury," Leopold explained. "He is a first-rate fellow."

"No doubt of it," sneered the New Yorker, who was not a good specimen of his genus, and could not appreciate such a "good fellow," with his brown face and coarse clothes.

"He don't like his nickname very well, and when he objected to it, years ago, the fellows began to call him 'Wormy.' He couldn't stand that, and is satisfied now to be called 'Stumpy.'"

"Stumpy is better than Wormy," added Charley Redmond.

"Hoist the jib," said Leopold.

The Rosabel went off with a brisk breeze, at a speed which immediately rekindled the enthusiasm of the girls; and, to prolong the sail, Leopold stood off into the bay, going around a small rocky island, a mile from the light-house.

"It's rather rough out here," said Charley Redmond, when the sloop began to dance and leap on the waves thrown up by the fresh north-west wind.

"It's delightful!" exclaimed Isabel; "isn't it, Rose?"

"I think so, Belle; I enjoy it above all things."

"But the boat is rather small," suggested Charley, as a cloud of spray dashed over the bow.

"So much the better," added Rosabel.

When the sloop was a mile from the shore, where the water was not sheltered by the high cliffs, the white caps lighted up the bay, and it was very lively sailing. The Rosabel, close-hauled, pitched smartly, and the spray soon drenched Stumpy, who, presuming not to intrude himself into the presence of the New Yorkers in the standing-room, remained upon the half-deck. Mr. Redmond was not willing to own it, but he was actually frightened, as Leopold could see by the way he started when the boat pitched, and by the energy with which he held on to the washboard.

"I don't know that I like this very well," said he, at last, with a sort of shudder.

"It's perfectly splendid," exclaimed Belle.

"Elegant," added Rosabel.

"I will come about whenever you wish, Miss Hamilton," said Leopold.

"O, no, not yet," protested Isabel.

"I think it is about time," put in Charley. "It is cold and wet."

The skipper enjoyed the starts and squirmings of the young gentleman. He had the boat perfectly in hand, though by this time she had all the wind she could stagger under. He knew very well that the most exciting part of the sail was yet to come, for he would have the wind free as soon as he came about. If the girls had not been on board, he would have let the boat over far enough to take in a few buckets of water, for the especial benefit of Mr. Redmond. He knew just how much she would bear, and he could do it with entire safety; but he did not care to alarm his fair passengers. Having weathered the island, he let off the sheets a little. The Rosabel heeled over, and promptly increased her speed. The wind came in gusts, and now every flaw carried her down to the washboard. Mr. Redmond was more uneasy than ever, but the girls only shouted in the exuberance of their delight.

"I don't believe in this thing," said Charley, at last, when his nervousness overcame him.

"Are you afraid, Charley?" laughed Belle.

"Of course I'm not afraid—ugh!" he muttered, as the sloop heeled over till the waves threatened to invade the standing-room.

"You are afraid Charley."

"I'm not afraid; but I don't think it is safe. I've been in boats enough to know that this isn't the way to do the thing. Why don't you lower one of the sails, Leopold?"

"What for?" asked the skipper quietly.

"You will upset the boat!" gasped Charley.

"No danger of that."

"But I know there is: I have been in boats before," protested Charley.

"If the ladies wish me to reef the mainsail, I will do so," said Leopold.

"O, no; don't, don't, Leopold!" cried Belle. "I think this is just lovely."

"Fun alive—isn't it?" chimed in Rosabel. "It would spoil it all to reef."

"If we only had a man with us, it would be another thing," groaned Mr. Redmond, with a shudder, as the boat went down to her washboard again.

"I think I am strong enough to handle her," suggested Leopold.

"But you don't understand it," exclaimed the New Yorker, desperately.

"If you think you understand it any better than I do, I am willing to let you take my place," said the skipper, with a smile.

"O, no! don't let him! I should certainly be afraid then," cried Belle.

"I don't pretend to know anything about a boat; and I don't think you do," blubbered Charley, angrily.

"I think I can get along with her," added Leopold, pleasantly. "This is a quiet time compared with what I have seen out here in this boat."

Mr. Raymond continued to growl, and the girls continued to scream and "squeal" with delight when the sloop heeled over, and when the spray drenched their water-proofs. The Rosabel was at least five miles from the land, still making things very lively on board, when a large schooner was seen dead ahead.

"I've had enough of this thing," said Charley, clinging to the washboard behind him. "If you don't turn round, or lower one of the sails, I shall call for help from that vessel."

"What a simpleton you are!" exclaimed Belle; and her remarks were often much stronger than Rosabel could approve.

Leopold quietly put the helm up, and let off the sheets, so that the boat did not go within half a mile of the schooner. Half an hour later he put her about, and, with the wind on the quarter, stood in towards High Rock. Being almost before the wind, the Rosabel jumped, leaped, and "yawed" about more than ever; but she took in no more spray over her bow. She seemed to fly on her course, and Charley Redmond expected every moment to feel her go over. He held on with desperation, unnoticed now by the girls. In another half hour the sloop passed into the calmer waters, sheltered by the high cliffs. Charley began to be brave again.

"You feel better—do you, Mr. Redmond?" said the laughing Belle.

"I feel well enough."

"You were afraid."

"Afraid—I? Not a bit of it; at least not for myself," replied the young gentleman. "The boatman don't understand his business. That's the whole of this thing."

"My father says he knows all about a boat; and he would trust him farther than he would most men," added Rosabel. "Didn't he take the Orion into the river in the fog?"

"He didn't manage the yacht: Captain Bounce was on board. I have been in boats before, and I think I can tell when a boatman knows his biz," replied Charley, confidently. "I wasn't at all concerned about myself; but I was afraid he would drown you girls. You were placed in my care—"

"Were we? Indeed! Didn't we invite you to come?" demanded Belle.

"If you did, of course it was my duty, as a gentleman, to look out for you. No; I wasn't a bit concerned about myself; but I was afraid for you."

"It was very kind of you to be afraid for us," sneered his fair tormentor. "It was very unselfish in you. I think I see you now, reckless of yourself, but trembling for our safety! I hope you will tell Leopold how to manage a boat!"

"I shall be glad to learn," laughed the skipper.

Leopold ran the sloop alongside a rock, which at this time of tide served as a wharf, and landed his party. Rosabel led the way to the Hole in the Wall, and they soon disappeared in the deep ravine. The skipper would have been very glad to go with them, but he was not invited to do so; and without this formality he was unwilling to do that which might possibly be deemed an intrusion. Rosabel wondered that he did not come with them, and would have been glad of his company; but as she did not feel herself above the boatman, it did not occur to her to ask him.

"That fellow was scared—wasn't he, Le?" said Stumpy, when they were alone.

"Of course he was. He is a regular spooney," replied the skipper. "If the girls hadn't been with us, I would have put him through a course of sprouts."

"He thinks he is a bigger man than the president of the United States. You won't catch him in the Rosabel again."

"I don't want to catch him there."

"How long are they going to stay up there, Le?" asked Stumpy.

"They won't come down for a couple of hours yet."

"Then I can dig a bucket of clams while we are waiting," added Stumpy, as he took the shovel and a pail from the cuddy.

Leopold fastened the painter to the rocks, and followed his friend. The bucket was soon filled with clams, the largest and finest to be found on the coast, for they were seldom dug on this beach. In returning to the boat, they passed quite near Coffin Rock, and of course Leopold could not help thinking of the hidden treasure in the sand. Stumpy, with the bucket of clams in his hand, led the way to the spot, not exactly with the approbation of his companion, who was afraid that the waters had not yet smoothed over the beach so as to conceal his recent operations.

"Come, Stumpy, ain't you going down to the boat?" asked Leopold, as he began to move in a different direction from that of his friend.

"No hurry—is there? I want to go to the spring, and clean up a little," replied the clam-digger.

"Can't you do it down by the boat?" suggested the money-digger, who did not feel inclined to answer the questions which the disturbed state of the beach under Coffin Rock would put into the mouth of Stumpy.

"I never wash in salt water when I can get fresh. Besides I want a drink."

Without intending to be obstinate, Stumpy silently insisted upon having his own way, by directing his steps towards the springs, which flowed from the rocks not twenty feet from the hidden treasure. The pure water dropped from an overhanging cliff, in a kind of alcove in the precipice. It was clear and cold, and on a warm day it was emphatically a luxury. If the weather was not warm on the present occasion, Stumpy was, for he had been digging deep into the sand and mud of the beach. The water dropping from the spring had formed a deep pool under the cliff, which overflowed, and was discharged by a stream flowing down the sands into the ocean. In this stream Stumpy washed his face and hands, and then his feet, covered with the black mud which he had thrown up from under the sand at low tide.

Leopold sat down on a bowlder, some distance from the cliff, to wait for his companion. Stumpy seemed to be determined to do just what his friend did not want him to do, for, as soon as he had washed his feet, he walked directly out of the alcove to the spot under Coffin Rock, taking the clams and shovel with him.

"I say, Le, can't we get up a clam-bake for the girls?" said he, calling to the skipper in the distance.

"It won't pay," replied Leopold, walking to the place where Stumpy stood, exactly over the buried treasure.

"Why not? You said Miss Rosabel liked clams."

"It will take too long. We must get back to the hotel by dinner time."

"Just as you say; but if the girls like clams, it would be a treat to them; and this is just the place to do this thing."

"We haven't time to-day."

"All right," replied Stumpy, who seemed to be just then engaged in a survey of the locality. "What in the world were you doing here, Le?" he added. "This sand looks as though it had been all dug over."

No high tide had washed the beach since Leopold dug for the treasure, and even his shovel marks were plainly to be seen under the overhanging rock.

"I might as well tell him all about it," thought Leopold. "I can trust him till the end of the world; and I should like to have some one to help me bear the burden of the secret."

"What were you digging for, Le?" repeated Stumpy, his curiosity considerably excited.

"Can you keep a secret, Stumpy?"

"Of course I can till the rocks crumble, and the earth sinks," replied he, warmly.

Leopold told him the whole story, from the first glimpse he had of Harvey Barth's diary, down to the finding of the bag of gold.

"I swow!" exclaimed Stumpy, drawing a long breath, when the narrative was finished. "Twelve hundred in gold!"

"I haven't counted it; but that's what the diary says," replied Leopold.

"You will be as rich as mud, Le. Gold! Then it's worth double that in paper."

"It don't belong to me," answered Leopold, decidedly.

"It belongs to you as much as it does to any one."

"But I intend to find the owner, or the heirs of the man who buried the gold."

"I wouldn't leave it here a day longer, if I were you, Le," said Stumpy. "Somebody else will find it."

This suggestion was considered for some time, and Leopold finally concluded to dig up the treasure, and conceal it in some safer place. In a few moments more the shot bag was unearthed, and Stumpy held it in his hand.

"I swow! Solid gold!" exclaimed he.

"Halveses!" shouted Charley Redmond, suddenly stepping between the money-diggers.



CHAPTER XIV.

THE FAIR THING.

Leopold immediately began to realize that he had no talent for concealment; that he was a sad bungler in the management of any business which was not open and above-board. This impertinent, disagreeable little coxcomb of a New Yorker, without a warning sound to announce his coming, had suddenly stepped between him and Stumpy, who held the hidden treasure in his hand. If there was any person in or about Rockhaven from whom he would have particularly desired to keep his secret, it was Mr. Charles Redmond, or any other person like him.

Both Leopold and Stumpy supposed the little New Yorker with the eye-glass was making himself as agreeable as he could to the young ladies on the cliffs above. It is true there was an angle in the cliffs which concealed his approach from the eye, and the soft sand deadened the sound of footsteps to the ear; but both the money-digger and the clam-digger would have deemed it impossible for any one to come into their presence without being heard. But then both of them were absorbed in the unearthing of the treasure, and Leopold made so much noise with his shovel that the sound of Charley Redmond's approach, if there were any, could not be heard.

Leopold looked at Stumpy, and Stumpy looked at Leopold. The money-digger and the clam-digger realized that they were in a bad scrape. This little dandy in eye-glasses had certainly upset all Leopold's plans for the disposition of the gold.

"Halveses!" shouted Charley a second time, as he adjusted his eye-glasses, and fixed his gaze upon the wet shot-bag which contained the hidden treasure.

"I think not," added Leopold.

"No? When a fellow finds any money, the rule is to divy with all present," added Charley.

"And for that reason you modestly ask for one half?"

"Well that's a conventional phrase, you see. Of course I meant shareses. I shall be quite satisfied with one-third; and that's the way to do the thing."

"Where did you come from? I thought you were on the cliff with the young ladies," asked Leopold.

"I was there; but it seems that I came down just in the nick of time," replied the little fop. "The fact is, I drank too much wine last night, and it makes me thirsty to-day. I was almost choked, and the ladies had seated themselves on a rock, to enjoy a view of the boundless ocean, you see; and it looked to me just as though they intended to stay there all day, you see. In the mean time I was suffering with thirst; but it wasn't polite, you see, for me to leave them. It isn't the way to do the thing, you see. I knew they wouldn't want me to leave them."

Leopold looked at Stumpy, and smiled significantly.



"My throat was as parched as though I had spent a month in the Desert of What-you-call-it, you see," continued Mr. Redmond. "I desired very much to come down to the boat and obtain a draught of cold water. I didn't expect to obtain a draft on a gold bank then—ha, ha! you see? Not bad—eh? Even a gentleman can't help making a pun sometimes, you see."

"Making a what?" asked Leopold.

"A pun—you see," laughed Mr. Redmond.

"Which was the pun?"

"Don't you see it? Why, a draught of water, and a draft on a gold bank. Ha, ha!"

"O, that was it—was it? I'm much obliged to you for telling me."

Of course Mr. Redmond hardly expected a "countryman" to appreciate his wit.

"I was suffering with thirst, you see," continued the fop.

"I think you said so before."

"I wanted to introduce the matter so as not to be abrupt; not to tear myself rudely away from the ladies, you see. We were gazing out upon the vast ocean, you see; and a quotation from the poet—ah—a doosed odd sort of a thing, written by the poet—what's his name? you know—about an old salt that killed a wild goose, or some sort of a thing, and then had nothing to drink. I repeated the quotation, and both of the girls laughed: 'Water, water, all around, but not a drop of whiskey to drink.'"

"I don't wonder the girls laughed," replied Leopold.

"Why so?" asked Mr. Redmond, blankly.

"You didn't quote it just as the poet 'What-you-call-him' wrote it, Stumpy can give it to you correctly."

"'Water, water everywhere; Not any drop to drink,'"

added Stumpy; "and Coleridge was the fellow that wrote it."

"Not correct," protested Mr. Redmond, emphatically. "Do you mean to tell me that an old salt thought of drinking water? It isn't the way old salts do that sort of thing, you see."

The coxcomb felt that he had the best of the argument, however astonished he was to find that these countrymen knew something about the poets.

"I told the ladies that I felt just as that old salt did, only I would rather have water just then than whiskey, however good whiskey may be in its place, you see. From this it was quite easy to say that I was very thirsty; and I said so. Though Miss Hamilton did not wish me to leave her, you see, she was kind enough to tell me that I should find a spring of nice cold water under the cliff. I apologized for leaving the ladies, you see; but they were so self-sacrificing as to say that I needn't climb up the rocks to join them again; they would soon meet me on the beach. Isn't it strange how these girls will sometimes give up all their joys for a feller?"

"The girls must be miserable up there without you," added Leopold.

"The water was clear and cold, and it suited me better than the whiskey that old salt wanted in the poem. I found a tin cup at the spring, and I drank half a gallon. I was very thirsty, you see. While I was drinking, I heard you talking about the bag of gold; and then I stepped in here under this rock, just in the nick of time. Come, Stumpy, cut the string of the bag, and let us divy before the ladies join us."

"Why should you want a share of it Mr. Redmond?" asked Leopold very much embarrassed by the situation. "You are the son of a rich man, and seem to have all the money you want."

"No, not at all. That isn't the way my governor does that sort of thing, you see. A year ago he used to do the handsome thing, and then I could give a champagne supper to my friends at Delmonico's. But one night, you see, I came home just a little elevated, you see; and when I went up to my bed, I had the misfortune to tumble down—it was quite accidental, you see—near the door of my governor's chamber. The patriarch came out. I was rather bewildered, you see, by my fall; and he had the impertinence to tell me I was intoxicated. After that he reduced my allowance of pocket money about one half, so that I have been short ever since, you see. Cruel—wasn't it? What would you say, Leopold, if your governor should tell you you were intoxicated?"

"If I had been drinking champagne, or any other kind of wine, I should believe he spoke the truth."

"Nonsense! You see, I'm a two-bottle man, and I was only just a little heavy, you see. But we are wasting time. Let us proceed to business. I have told you just how this sort of thing ought to be done; and I ask only the fair thing, you see. How much is there in the bag?" added Mr. Redmond, extending his hand to Stumpy to take the treasure.

Stumpy did not respond to this application for the money. On the contrary, he handed it to Leopold.

"How much is there? Do you know?" repeated the fop.

"I do know: the bag contains twelve hundred dollars in gold," replied Leopold, as he dropped the four-pound bag into his trousers pocket, where it weighed heavily upon his starboard suspender.

"Bully for you, my countryman;" exclaimed Mr. Redmond. "Twelve hundred dollars in gold! that's four hundred apiece, you see; and I don't ask for more than my third. Four hundred in gold! And that's over eight hundred dollars in greenbacks at the present time! I can give a dozen champagne suppers on that, you see; and when you fellows come to New York, I shall invite you to one of them, and tell my friends the romantic incident of the finding of the bag of gold."

"I don't believe that any of this money will be spent for champagne suppers—at least, not yet a while," replied Leopold.

"Aren't you going to divy?" demanded Mr. Redmond, looking as though he had regarded such a disposition of the treasure as a foregone conclusion.

"I am not going to divy."

"No? But that's mean you see."

"I don't see it."

"But it's the thing to do, when you find any money, you see."

"Do you think you had any share in finding it, Mr. Redmond?" asked Leopold, quietly, as he began to move towards the boat.

"I was looking on when you found it, Leopold; and it's the rule, you see, in such cases, to divy. I was here when you unearthed the thing."

"No, you were not," answered Leopold, decidedly. "I dug it before you came to Rockhaven."

"I don't claim any share of it," Stumpy put in. "Le didn't find it by accident. No part of it belongs to me, and I don't ask for a dollar of the money."

"O, you don't!" exclaimed Mr. Redmond; "then Leopold and I will divy even, you see; half to each."

"We shall not divide at all," added the skipper of the Rosabel, who had by this time reached the flat rock where the sloop was made fast.

"See here, Leopold; do I understand you to say that you are going to keep the whole?" asked Charley Redmond, very seriously. "That would be mean, you see. It would be the way a swine would do that sort of thing."

"I don't intend to divide at all, or to keep it myself. It don't belong to me any more than it does to you," protested Leopold.

"Didn't you find it?"

"Of course I did."

"Then it belongs to you."

"Not at all. If you pick up a pocket-book in the street of New York, does it belong to you, or to the one that lost it?"

"That's another sort of a thing, you see. This is money buried on the sea-shore by Captain Kidd, or some of those swells of pirates. It don't belong to anybody, you see."

"This gold was not buried by pirates."

"Who did bury it, then? That's the conundrum."

"His name was Wallbridge."

"Did you know him?" asked Mr. Redmond.

"No; I never saw him."

"Well, where is he now?"

"He is dead; he was lost on the brig Waldo, which went down by those rocks you see off there," replied Leopold, pointing to the reefs.

"Then he is dead!" exclaimed the fop, with a new gleam of hope. "Then he has gone to the happy hunting-ground, where gold isn't a hundred and twenty above par; and he won't have any use for it there, you see. The right thing to do is to divy."

"I think not. If your father had lost twelve hundred dollars in gold on this beach, and went to the happy hunting-ground before he found it, you would not say that the money belonged to me, if I happened to dig it up," added Leopold, earnestly, for he had some hope of convincing the New Yorker of the correctness of the position he had taken, and of inducing him to keep the secret of the hidden treasure until its ownership had been fully investigated.

"That's another sort of a thing, you see," replied Mr. Redmond. "In that case, the money would belong to me, as his nearest heir, and I should have the pleasure of spending the whole amount, thus unexpectedly reclaimed from the sands of the sea, in champagne suppers at Delmonico's up-town house. That would be the fair thing, you see."

"I think so myself; and I purpose to act on precisely the principle you suggest. Mr. Wallbridge, to whom the money belonged, has gone to the happy hunting-ground, where I don't want to trouble him to hunt for this bag of gold. For aught I know, Mr. Wallbridge had had a handsome, refined accomplished son, familiar with the poets, to whom this money now belongs just as much as though he were here to claim it; though I hope, when he gets it, that he will not spend the whole or any part of it in champagne suppers. I see that we are perfectly agreed in this matter, and that you think the way I mention is the right way to do this sort of thing."

Mr. Redmond felt that he had been whipped in the argument; and he was very much dissatisfied with himself for the admission he had made in the supposed case, and very much dissatisfied with Leopold for the advantage he had taken of the admission.

"Who was the feller that buried the money?" he demanded, feeling his way to another argument in favor of a division.

"Mr. Wallbridge."

"Who was he?"

"I don't know."

"You haven't been introduced to him?"

"No."

"What do you know about him?"

"Nothing."

"Then how did you know he had a good-looking son, familiar with the poets?"

"I don't."

"That was what you said."

"I only supposed a case. So far as we know now, no one was acquainted with Mr. Wallbridge. No one knows anything at all about him."

"All right, then. All we have to do is to divy."

"Not yet. I am going to see the owners of the Waldo, in which Mr. Wallbridge was a passenger. They know nothing about him, I am aware; but I am going to ask them to write to their agents in Havana, and ascertain who he was."

"That's taking a good deal of trouble for nothing, you see," added Mr. Raymond, with a look of disappointment and dissatisfaction.

"That is just what I am going to do, any how," replied Leopold, firmly. "The money don't belong to me, and I intend to keep it safely till the heirs of Wallbridge appear to claim it; or at least, till I am satisfied there are no heirs. When that time comes, I shall be willing to consider the question of dividing it with Stumpy and you."

"I don't think any of it belongs to me," added Stumpy.

"I think a share of it belongs to me; but I am willing to discount my claim, you see."

"Discount it?" queried Leopold.

"I can't wait a year or two till you find out whether or not the man that buried the gold has any heirs or not."

"I am very sorry you are so impatient."

"I want the money now, when my governor is cruel to me. Besides, in two years gold may be down to par, and it won't bring anything more than its face, you see. I want to do the fair thing. Give me two hundred dollars in gold, and I will relinquish my claim: discount it, you see."

"No, Mr. Redmond; I cannot sell or discount what don't belong to me. They may do it in New York, but some of us countrymen haven't yet learned how to do that thing, you see," laughed Leopold.

"Say one hundred, then."

"Not a single dollar. The best I can do is to promise that I will consider the question of a division when I feel that the money belongs to the finder."

Mr. Redmond argued the point in all its bearings, but with no different result.

"But how long will it be before you find out whether this man had any heirs?" asked he.

"I may ascertain in a month or two. It don't take but a week or ten days for a letter to go to Havana."

"Then I must wait, I suppose," mused the fop.

"You must, indeed."

"But I am sure you will find no heirs."

"I may not."

"Leopold, I'll tell you what I will do. I want to be fair, you see."

"I see."

"Give me two hundred in gold now, and then, if you find any heirs, I will agree to pay the money back to you. That's fair, you see."

"Perhaps it is," laughed Leopold, amused at the desperation of the coxcomb; "but one so busy as you are, and will always be, in a great city like New York, might forget to send me the money."

"I will give you my note for it."

"Your note would not be worth any more than mine, for neither of us is of age. If you will give me your father's note I will think about it."

"My father's note! I don't want my governor to know anything about this business, you see. I want this money for my private purse, so that I can give a champagne supper when I please."

"I am afraid we shall not be able to manage the business, Mr. Redmond. You know I was to consider your claim, when I found there were no heirs."

"O, you mean to cheat me out of it."

"I promised to consider your claim. But in the mean time I don't want anything said about this money in Rockhaven. It would make too much talk."

"O, you want me to keep the secret—do you?" demanded Mr. Redmond, with a new gleam of hope.

"I do." And Leopold explained some of the reasons which induced him to desire that the hidden treasure should still remain a secret.

"If you mean to do the fair thing, of course I shall keep still, you know. Give me my share, and I will keep as still as the man that has gone to the happy hunting-ground."

"I can't promise anything."

"Neither can I," said the fop, angrily; for by this time he had come to the conclusion that Leopold did not intend to do "the fair thing."

The money-digger was appalled to think of having the story of the buried treasure told all over Rockhaven, and perhaps being compelled to hand it over to his father before he had made any effort to find the heirs of the lost passenger. On the other hand, he could neither divide the money at the present time, nor promise to do so in the future, with the troublesome visitor; and the former was the less of the two evils. The appearance of the young ladies on the beach, as they emerged from the Hole in the Wall, put an end to the argument; but Leopold hoped yet that he should be able to prevail upon Mr. Redmond to be silent in regard to the treasure.

"I am very glad to see you again, ladies," said the fop, running toward them as they approached. "I hope you will pardon me for leaving you, and for not returning, for a matter of some little importance prevented me from joining you again."

"You are very excusable, Mr. Redmond," replied Rosabel. "We contrived to pass away the time in your absence."

"Thank you for your kind consideration."

"We didn't suffer much for the want of you, Charley Redmond," added Belle.

The party immediately embarked in the Rosabel, which was soon under way on the return to Rockhaven. But the wind was dead ahead, and even fresher than when they had come down to High Rock. Leopold stood directly out to sea, making only one tack in reaching the river. It was very rough, and Mr. Redmond soon lost all his elasticity of spirit, and forgot all about the hidden treasure of High Rock, in his fears for his own safety. But, in spite of the gale, the Rosabel went into the river without accident, under the skillful management of the skipper, though the entire party were thoroughly drenched by the spray.

As soon as Leopold had landed his passengers, and securely moored the sloop, he hastened, before going to the hotel, to the shop of his uncle. Without any explanation, he dropped upon the watch-maker's counter the shot-bag, in which the gold chinked as it fell, to the intense astonishment of Herr Schlager.



CHAPTER XV.

THE WALDO'S PASSENGER.

"Donner und blitz!" exclaimed Herr Schlager, when he realized that the wet and sandy bag on the counter before him contained money, for he was too familiar with the chink of gold to mistake the sound. "Was haben sie, hier, Leopold?"

"Money, gold, specie, coin, geld," replied the boatman, hardly less excited than his Teutonic uncle.

"So mooch golt! Der bag is wet mit der sand, and covered mit salt water! Himmel! where so much money haf you found, Leopold?"

"Put it in the safe, uncle, and we will talk about it afterwards," added the young man. "I haven't opened this bag, and I don't want it opened."

"No? What for you want him not to be open?"

"It is not mine."

"Not your money? Dat is bad!"

"I wish it were mine, certainly, uncle; but, as it is not, I mean to take good care of it for the owner."

"Den I sall seal up der bag for you," replied the watch-maker, taking a piece of red tape from one of his drawers, which he wound tightly over the original string of the bag.

Then, lighting the spirit-lamp which he used with his blow-pipe, he melted a large mass of sealing-wax upon the knot of the red tape, and pressed upon it the great seal hanging from his watch-chain. Herr Schlager was a simple-minded man, and doubtless he believed that the seal was a perfect protection to the contents of the bag. Possibly he thought that no mortal man would dare to "cut the red-tape." Leopold was less superstitious in regard to the sanctity of a seal; and he relied more upon the protective power of the iron safe than upon that of the tape or seal. His uncle lodged in a little room in the rear of his shop for the better security of his goods; and the young man felt that the treasure would be safe in the watch-maker's strong-box. Herr Schlager dropped the bag into one of the drawers of the safe.

"Now, where you was get him?" demanded the Teuton, as he closed the iron door.

"I dug it out of the sand on the beach at High Rock, uncle," replied Leopold.

"Den it pelongs to you, mine poy."

"Not at all, uncle; at least, not yet a while."

Leopold told the whole story, from Harvey Barth's diary down to date, as briefly as he could.

"If I don't find any owner, I suppose the money belongs to me," he added.

"Himmel! Yes!" answered the watch-maker.

"Now, uncle, don't you let anybody, not even my father, have the bag without my consent."

"No, Leopold; nobody shall touch him," added Herr Schlager, as he locked the door of the safe, and put the key in his pocket.

The money-digger was satisfied that his uncle would be faithful to the letter of his promise; and he hastened back to the hotel, to attend to his usual duties.

But the malignant little Mr. Redmond had already told the story of the hidden treasure, so far as he new it, to an audience in the office of the Sea Cliff House, which included the landlord. Of course the narrative was full of interest; and in the course of half an hour it was travelling from mouth to mouth up the main street of Rockhaven as rapidly as though it had been written out, and sent by express. When the finder of the treasure entered the hotel office, the subject was still under discussion.

"Leopold wouldn't do the fair thing, and divy with Stumpy and me," said the little fop, when he had finished his story. "If he had, I would have kept the whole thing secret as he wished me to do."

"Why should he share the money with you, Charley?" demanded Mr. Hamilton.

"Because I was in at the death, and that's the way to do the thing when any money is found. Leopold was mean about it."

"Perhaps he was; but my boy hasn't the reputation of being mean," added the landlord.

"I don't think Charley has any claim," said Mr. Redmond, senior, the father of the other Mr. Redmond, "however it may be with Stumpy."

"Here he is, to speak for himself," added Mr. Hamilton, as Leopold entered the room. "They say you are mean because you would not divide the money with Charley. How is that, my boy?"

"I certainly would not divide with him, or with anybody, for that matter," replied the skipper of the Rosabel. "I found the money, all alone by myself, on the night before the Orion arrived. I left it where it was, because I did not know what to do with it," replied Leopold.

"Where is it now?" asked the landlord.

"In my uncle's safe. I have not opened the bag, and uncle Leopold sealed it up. I told him not to let anybody touch it without my consent."

"I think that is the safest place for it," said Mr. Bennington. "Then it appears that Miss Liverage was not crazy, after all."

"She was right in every respect. If she could have told me where to look for the gold, I should have found it," replied Leopold.

"But how happened you to find it?" asked Mr. Hamilton.

"I didn't happen to find it, sir. I went right to the place where it was, and dug it up, after I had read the directions in Harvey Barth's diary."

"But where did you get the diary, Leopold?" inquired the landlord.

"I found it in the chimney, when the old house was pulled down."

"You didn't say anything about it," added Mr. Bennington, rather reproachfully.

"You laughed at me, father, after Miss Liverage had gone, and I thought I wouldn't say anything more until I found out whether Miss Liverage was crazy or not. Then, when I read the diary, I didn't know but Harvey Barth might have been crazy when he wrote it, for I couldn't find any such rock as he mentioned till I went down to High Rock in a thunder-storm. I am willing to tell all I know about it; but it's rather a long story."

"And dinner is nearly ready," added the landlord, glancing at the clock.

"What is it? We want to know about it," said Belle Peterson, rushing into the office, followed by Rosabel.

The story had been carried to the parlor by Mr. Redmond, junior, who had so little confidence in the future intentions of Leopold, that he had revealed the secret from motives of revenge.

"We will hear the story after dinner," said Mr. Hamilton.

"We want to hear it, too," interposed Miss Belle.

"Yes father," added Rosabel; "and all the ladies in the parlor want to hear it."

"Then Leopold shall tell it in the parlor, if he is willing."

"I'm willing, sir," replied Leopold. "All I have to say about the money now is, that I believe it belongs to somebody—to the heirs of the man who buried it in the sand; and, as I told Stumpy and Mr. Redmond, I intend to find those heirs, if I can."

"That's right, Leopold," exclaimed Mr. Hamilton, patting the boatman's shoulder. "Be honest before you are generous."

Leopold and his father went to the dining-room, to prepare for their duties there. The landlord did not think as much as usual at this time about his chowder, chicken, and roast beef. The time was rapidly approaching when the interest on the mortgage note would be due. His New York guests had not paid their bills in whole or in part, and he was still very short of funds. The vision of this twelve hundred dollars in gold which his son had dug up from the sands of the sea, was intensely exciting to him. The gold transmuted into currency, when a dollar of the one was worth more than two of the other, would enable him to pay his interest and discharge the mortgage upon his furniture. He wanted the money, and he was not particularly pleased with Leopold's idea of finding, at some remote period, the heirs of the man who had buried it. However, Mr. Bennington was an honest man; and further consideration of the subject would undoubtedly convince him that his son was exactly right and nobly just.

The dinner at the Sea Cliff House was as good, though no better than usual; but the guests, after the abundance of exercise during the forenoon, were in better condition to enjoy it. They did enjoy it; and they talked about the hidden treasure of High Rock while they did so.

While they were eating and talking, and the landlord and his son were waiting upon them, the story of the bag of gold was travelling up the main street of the village, and, following the angles and bifurcations of the highways, was penetrating to the remotest corner of the town. Among other places, it went to the Island House, and Ethan Wormbury was utterly dismayed when he had listened to it. Though it was almost dinner-time, he left the few guests in his house to wait upon themselves, and hastened over to his father's house, where he found that the astounding news had preceded him. Squire Moses was as much disconcerted and cast down as his son had been.

"Twelve hundred dollars in gold!" exclaimed the old man, wiping the perspiration from his bald head.

"Of course Bennington will be able to pay his interest money now," added Ethan.

"I suppose so," groaned the squire. "But where on earth did the money come from? Who buried it in the sand?"

"One of the men that was lost on the Waldo."

"Who was he?"

"I don't know," replied Ethan, for not many of the particulars in regard to the hidden treasure had yet been circulated. "But they say Stumpy was with young Bennington when he found the money."

"What! Stumpy! With him! Then they will divide it between them!" exclaimed Squire Moses; and the amiable old gentleman did not seem to rejoice at this possible accession of fortune on the part of his grandson.

"I don't know about that," said Ethan, who was certainly not less troubled than his worthy patriarch.

"But they ought not to touch the money—none of them. It belongs to the heirs of the man that was drowned. It ain't no better'n stealing to keep the gold," continued Squire Moses, with an overflow of honest indignation.

"That's so," added Ethan, sharing the virtuous sentiments of his father. "Of course the money belongs to somebody, if the man that buried it is dead. But I want to know more about it; and I'm going down to see Stumpy."

"I'll go with you, Ethan," said the squire; and together they left the house.

"If they should keep the money, and divide it, Joel's widow would pay off the mortgage on the house, and Bennington would settle up his interest money on the first of July, I suppose," mused Ethan aloud, as they walked along the street.

The landlord of the Island House appeared to be disposed to look the facts squarely in the face, however disagreeable they might be. If the money was divided, he could not expect to become the landlord of the new hotel, which was the height of his ambition.

"I don't know," replied Squire Moses. "I don't go near Bennington now; I don't say anything to him about the interest money; I don't want to disturb him, or to set him a thinking. He not only promises to pay the interest, but he promises to pay it on the first day of July. If he don't do it at the right time, I shall foreclose. I believe the man is ruined now; and the longer I wait, the more money I shall lose. He ought to know that such a big hotel, furnished as extravagantly as the new house, would not pay in such a place as Rockhaven. He can never recover himself in the world."

"But, father, even if the boys don't divide the gold, Bennington's customers will pay him enough to enable him to settle the interest," suggested Ethan, whose hopes were somewhat inflated by the reasoning of his father.

"That may be; but Bennington owes everybody in town, and his expenses for keeping those New Yorkers in his house are enough to swamp him. I don't believe he'll think of the interest at all, he's so busy, till after it is too late. He owes Jones three hundred dollars of borrowed money, which Jones lent him till the first of July, when he is to pay the mortgage on his house. I've already told Jones I couldn't wait a single day for my money; and he will have to make Bennington pay. Then I have hinted to Green, the market-man, Butler, the grocer, and others Bennington owes, that they had better look out and get their pay before the first of July. They are after him now, and he promises to pay them all just as soon as these New York folks settle for their board. If Bennington ain't short on the first of July, I'll lose my guess," said the old man; and he believed that he had made things intensely hot for his creditor. "I can count up over a thousand dollars he has promised to pay by the first of July."

In justice to the landlord of the Sea Cliff House, it should be said that Squire Moses had overstated the facts, for Mr. Bennington had not promised to pay, but had merely expressed his hope and belief that he should be able to do so in the month of July. He actually owed, besides his interest, about seven hundred dollars; and his debts troubled him sorely. He could only hope that his creditors would wait a few weeks, though even now they harassed him every day of his life.

Squire Moses and Ethan entered the cottage of Joel's widow, and found the family at dinner. They did not knock at the door, or stand upon any ceremony.

"Stumpy, what's this story about the money found on the beach?" demanded Squire Moses, as though he felt that he had a right to know.

Now, half a dozen persons had already spoken to Stumpy about the hidden treasure, and he was aware the subject was no longer a secret.