ick enough to be felt was all around him. He could hear the wind whistling fiercely above his head, yet he felt it not. He could hear the sound of dashing waves but faintly, as though some dist

rd partition; he stretched out his left hand, and it touched a similar one, about the same distance away. Then he knew he was in the body of his ox-cart, which had in so

s thrown off his feet. Rubbing the bruised spot tenderly, he crept along to the side of the cart-bed and put out his hand as far as possible; but it touched nothing. Slowly stepping eve

for his hearing the whistling wind without feeling it, for the sound of the dashing of the waves at such a distance from him, and

me convinced that to the left he could see a little more clearly than to the right, and that it was from th

boarded took its place. Now he saw a light space just ahead; the wind fanned his cheek; the opening was not far off; but the water was up to his neck, and he must swim for it. A few strokes, and he was in the open air. It

t. Not far away, and gleaming brightly through the thick darkness, was a light. With a hoarse cry of exultation he staggered to his feet and went toward it. Brief a

p! H

swung open, letting out a flood of light

you? Wher

nds toward the stranger, who sprung forward and caug

but he showed that he possessed enormous strength by lifting his

y through it; dry clothing and a warm blanket were then wrapped about the recovering lad, and he was laid upon a rude pallet of straw before the rusty stove, in which, however, a good fire was burning. Nor did the young stranger's attention to his unexpected guest

rant you'll be kicking round here as

ffered cup, and th

ay you for your kindness to me. I

nd refilled it. Sipping this slowly off himself, he eyed hi

e how you came h

rised that the lad had called him by name,

rug of his shoulders, and with

and am monarch of all I survey. But how came you here in all this tempest? Did you see my light streaming far

t the serio-comic air of his companion, but as

don't want to try that sail, at least on that kind of a craft, such a night as this, you bet.

dmitted this;

u knew me? And how lon

or it sounds much like my own. Yours is Budd Boyd, and mine is Judd Floyd. Guess we must be sort of second-rate twins

e I been here

ironing to keep our souls and bodies together. I know now I didn't help her as much as I ought, but she would keep me in school, and I did try to help her, out of school hours. But last winter she

nth term as an habitual drunkard. Then the same worthy individuals that disposed of him talked of putting me on the Poor Farm

of furniture in the house; so I packed up a few necessary traps at the shanty, stowed them aboard pop

sked Budd, with a go

nd provisions I may want. I was over to the village and made some purchases early this morning. By and by, when the watering-places open up, I can get od

x. On this he spread a cloth; then he brought out some cold ham, some fre

, but help yourself. There

s hospitality and made

Judd

r, but you are welcome to that. I'll roll up in a blanket and sleep on the floor

o remain quietly with his new friend. Toward noon, however, the force of the tempest was spent

nded safely on "The Hummocks." Budd could find no trace of either the oxen or the

ed with him

nowing what old Benton will do to you for losing his cart and oxen. You'

nd tell him the whole story, let the conseq

your sail of last night than go back and face the old tyrant. Only, if he kicks you off of the farm, r

e learned of the serious loss he had sustained. Doubtless the fact that he had been so long away had led Mr. Benton to believe that he had perished. Would not his providential deliverance from a watery grave awaken such feelings of gratit