"Who says he is Philip Lawrence?" he questioned, sharply.
"I am, Uncle Lester," announced the shipowner's son. "Don't you remember me? You used to think the world and all of me some years ago, when you lived across the street from us."
The man opened the door a little wider, and gazed sharply into Phil's face. Then his manner seemed to change, and, allowing the door to swing wide open, he tottered back and sank down on a bench.
"It's Phil—little Phil, sure enough," he murmured. "How in the world did you come to follow me to this faraway place?"
"I didn't follow you, Uncle Lester," returned the youth. "I and my friends were looking for a wild man who is roaming around in this vicinity, scaring people, and we reached this place by accident. We saw you coming to the cabin with a bucket of water, and I easily recognized you at once."
"I thought I was safe here—safe from the whole world," muttered Lester Lawrence. "But you said you had good news for me," he added quickly. "What is it?"
"It's the best kind of news, Uncle Lester. Don't you know that shortly after you disappeared the bank authorities and the police found the guilty parties?"
"They did?" And now the man's face showed his amazement.
"Why, sure they did! And then, of course, they knew that you were innocent."
"Oh, Phil! can this be true?"