“Come into the tent,” cried Bax, hastening away and dragging his friend after him.
Tommy did not know whether to laugh or cry. His breast was still heaving with recent indignation, and his heart was bursting with present joy; so he gave utterance to a wild hysterical cheer, and disappeared behind the folds of his friend’s tent, amid the cheers and laughter of the miners, who thereafter dispersed quietly to their several places of abode.
“Tommy,” said Bax, placing the boy directly in front of him, on a pile of rough coats and blankets, and staring earnestly into his face, “I don’t believe it’s you! I’m dreaming, that’s what I am, so the sooner you pinch me out of this state the better.”
It were vain to attempt to give the broken and disjointed converse that here took place between the two friends. After a time they became more rational and less spasmodic in their talk, and Tommy at last condescended to explain the way in which he had managed to get there.
“But before I begin,” said he, “tell me who’s your friend?”
He turned as he spoke to Harry, who, seated on a provision cask, with a pleasant smile on his handsome face and a black pipe in his mouth, had been enjoying the scene immensely.
“Ah! true, I forgot; this is my mate, Harry Benton, an old school-fellow. You’ll know more of him and like him better in course of time.”
“I hope he will,” said Harry, extending his hand, which Tommy grasped and shook warmly, “and I hope to become better acquainted with you, Tommy, though in truth you are no stranger to me, for many a night has Bax entertained me in this tent with accounts of your doings and his own, both by land and sea. Now go on, my boy, and explain the mystery of your sudden appearance here.”
“The prime cause of my appearance is the faithlessness of Bax,” said Tommy. “Why did you not write to me?”
When it was explained that Bax had written by a vessel which was wrecked, the boy was mollified; and when the letter which had just been written was handed to him, he confessed that he had judged his old friend hastily. Thereafter he related succinctly his adventures in the “Butterfly” up to the point where we left him sound asleep in the skipper’s berth.