come from?"

"Yer didn't think I'd give yer the go-by now, did yer?" asked Pete, in
an injured tone. "I was waitin' fer yer all the time. I don't go back on
a pardner like that. Why, if they'd shipped yer up to the island, I'd a'
been there to say good-by to yer, an' don't yer ferget it. Yer give me a
breakfast this morning, didn't yer? Yer licked them fellers, didn't yer?
Well, Pete, if he's got only one name, don't go back on yer. See? An'
that settles it."

It was not an elegant speech, and Pete was an uncommonly
disreputable-looking lad, with his grimy face and hands and his tattered
garments, but there was a ring of gratitude and earnestness in his tone
that went straight to Andy's heart, and he held out his hand with:

"You're the right sort, Pete."

"Anyhow, I don't go back on a pardner," said Pete, shaking the proffered
hand awkwardly.

Andy was in need of sympathy at just that moment, and he was really very
glad of the friendship of the little waif, who was so old in experience
if so young in years.

[Illustration:
"YER KNOW ME? I'M LYNX-EYED BILL, THE TERROR OF THE FORCE.
GIT ONTER MY LYNX EYE."]

He would not have selected Pete for a friend and confidant; but there he
was, at hand, with his sympathy ready, and Andy was moved to take him