“Well, I broke a lock on their cabin door,” continued Mr. Carleton, “because I was desperately worried about the loss of a pin that was worth most as much as their boat—to say nothing of a cheap lock. Of course I was going to get them another, and a better one. They wouldn’t have made much fuss, either, I think, if it hadn’t been for young Burns. Harvey was hot-headed about it, but he would have got over it. The other young chap, he was cool as ice; but I could see he was the one I couldn’t make friends with again, so I gave it up.”
“Humph!” exclaimed Harry Brackett—“and after all you have done for them, too.”
“That’s it,” said Mr. Carleton; “though I don’t care anything about that. I was glad to give them a good time.”
“Say,” he exclaimed, suddenly, as though an idea had just come to his mind, “I tell you what you do. I’m going over to Bellport for a few days, and then down the coast somewhere. But I’ll leave word at Bellport for my letters to be forwarded. I want you to write to me once a week or so. Let me know where the Viking is, and what the boys are doing, and what you are doing. If we get a chance, you and I will play a little joke on them, just to show them they’re not so smart—might just tie in a few more reef-points, or something of that sort, eh?”
Mr. Carleton laughed as he spoke.
“I’ll do it,” said Harry Brackett. “Are you in earnest, though?”
“Yes, sir, honour bright,” replied Mr. Carleton. “You keep me informed, and we’ll have a joke on them yet.”
“Well, good-bye,” said Harry Brackett, getting down from the wagon and shaking hands with Mr. Carleton.
“Good-bye,” said the other. “And if any one inquires about me, after I am gone, just tell them you heard me say I was going back to Boston.”
