This vein of casuistry was new to the boy, and he was staggered.

"When your pa gits well agin, an' here's hopin,' Jim Fenton an' he will
be together in their brains, ye know, and then they won't be talkin'
like a couple of jay-birds, and I won't lie to him no more nor I would
to you."

The lad's troubled mind was satisfied, and he crept back to his father's
feet, where he lay until he discovered Turk, whining and wagging his
tail in front of the little hillock that was crowned by Jim's cabin.

The long, hard, weird journey was at an end. The boat came up broadside
to the shore, and Jim leaped out, and showered as many caresses upon his
dog as he received from the faithful brute.




CHAPTER VI.

IN WHICH SEVENOAKS EXPERIENCES A GREAT COMMOTION, AND COMES TO THE
CONCLUSION THAT BENEDICT HAS MET WITH FOUL PLAY.


Thomas Buffum and his family slept late on Sunday morning, and the
operating forces of the establishment lingered in their beds. When, at
last, the latter rose and opened the doors of the dormitories, the
escape of Benedict was detected. Mr. Buffum was summoned at once, and
hastened across the street in his shirt-sleeves, which, by the way, was
about as far toward full dress as he ever went when the weather did not