"Oh, when night came and you didn't return home, Benton thought you probably had got shut onto the lower hummock by the tide, and would be around all right in a few hours, so he said nothing to any of us about your prolonged absence; but this morning, when the oxen arrived home without you or the cart, he was a little frightened, and came directly over here for me and my man to go with him to look you up. As we went along down to 'The Hummocks' we made inquiries about you, but could not ascertain that you had been seen since one o'clock yesterday, when you were on your downward trip for seaweed. Arriving at 'The Hummocks,' we carefully searched them from one end to the other, but found no trace of you or the cart, though we came across a sheltered spot, back of a clump of trees, where the oxen had evidently stayed all night. The sea-weed we saw had not been taken, and so we knew that you hadn't got across to the lower hummock. There was but one inference--that the wind and tide had carried you out to sea.
"'Benton,' says I, 'the oxen, cart and lad were all taken off the roadway by some huge billow, and the first thing the lad thought of was to free the oxen, and they got ashore; but the cart and boy have gone no one knows where. Just as likely as not they are lying out there under the tossing waves. I guess we'd better go up the shore a piece, however, and see if we can find anything of them.' So we went up the coast as far as the village, but saw nothing of you, and could find no one that had. Finally we gave up the search and came home. Tell me, though, how you escaped?"
Budd related in substance the story already familiar to the reader--not, however, without frequent interruptions from Mr. Wright, who seemed anxious to know more of the details, and also repeatedly declared it was the most marvelous escape he ever heard of. At length Mr. Wright seemed satisfied, and Budd was permitted to ask the question he cared most of all to ask:
"How did Mr. Benton seem to feel when he came to the conclusion that I and the cart had been swept out to sea?"
"Well, to tell you the truth," replied Mr. Wright, bluntly, "he seemed to care a good deal more for the loss of the cart than he did for you. He danced around there on the beach, cursing what he called your folly, and telling how much the cart had cost him only last fall. I at last got tired of his talking, and told him you were of more account than all the carts that had been made since the world began, and that if he had a spark of decency about him he would shut his mouth. I suggested, also, that you would never have been lost if he hadn't set you to drawing sea-weed on a day that he was old enough and experienced enough to know it wasn't a safe thing to do in that particular locality, and that I wasn't sure but he could be held accountable to the law for your death. That scared him, so he came right off home, and was as dumb as a beast all the way."
"What do you think he'll do when he finds I'm alive, but the cart is lost?" asked Budd, a little anxiously, it must be confessed.
"Well, he ought not to say or do anything," answered Mr. Wright, with a little show of indignation in his tones. "The body of the cart can be towed back to 'The Hummocks,' and it is possible that the wheels and under-gear may yet turn up. But even if they are not recovered, what does the loss amount to compared with your safety? Still I have already learned that you can never know what John Benton may do, and I guess I had better be somewhere around when you tell him your story. You go on over and face the music, and I'll follow along in time to interfere if there is any serious trouble between you."
Thanking Mr. Wright for his kind offer, Budd, with a much lighter heart than he had had for twenty-four hours, went on toward home. He went directly into the house, on arriving there, and almost frightened Mrs. Benton to death by his sudden and unexpected appearance. He succeeded in convincing her, however, that it was really he, and that he had providentially been saved. Nor could he help noticing that she seemed greatly relieved in mind to find that he was really alive and unharmed; and taking encouragement from that fact, he went off to the barn, where he had learned Mr. Benton was.
The farmer was down upon his knees on the threshing-floor mending a horse-cultivator when the lad entered and said:
"Well, Mr. Benton, I'm back at last, and ready to report for my prolonged absence."