CHAPTER IV.--A NEW FRIEND.How long Budd remained unconscious he never exactly knew. It must have been some hours, however, for when he recovered sufficiently to look about him it was night; at least a darkness almost thick 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 distance away. He was evidently lying upon a hard board or floor; yet to it there was a gentle, undulating motion, like that of a boat in some sheltered harbor, or drawn, bow up, onto a sandy beach.With difficulty he sat up. His clothes were heavy with water, and he was stiff and numb from cold and exposure. He put out his right hand, and it rested upon a short board 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 some way become detached from its wheels. It must have been this into which he had been providentially thrown just as he had lost consciousness. Butwherewas the cart-body?Certainly it was no longer tossed about by the angry waters of the bay. Where, then, had it landed? He rose up, and his head came so forcibly in contact with a heavy planking that he was 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 ever the side, he found himself standing in a few inches of water. Walking directly ahead a few steps, he came up against a solid wall, that extended either way farther than he could reach.He now knew that he was under some wharf, where the waves had tossed the cart-bed. This accounted for the planking above his head, 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 for the heavy darkness settled around. Butwhatwharf was it? Which way should he go to find the opening by which he had entered?He straightened himself up and looked steadily first in one and then in an opposite direction. He soon became convinced that to the left he could see a little more clearly than to the right, and that it was from that direction that came what little air he could feel stirring. In that direction, then, he determined to go.As he advanced the water deepened, and the roof became more elevated. Not only could he now stand erect, but the planking was higher above his head than he could reach. Soon the stone wall ceased, and wooden piles heavily 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 was very dark, yet not with the intenseness he had experienced under the wharf. The wind and the rain beat fiercely upon him. Unless some house were near, he had better return under the dock for shelter and wait for morning.With the little strength that remained to him he drew himself up onto the wharf and looked anxiously about him. As he looked, a great hope sprung up within his heart. 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 as the walk was, it exhausted him. He was afraid that he would not reach the house from whose window he now knew the light shone forth, and in his despair he shouted:"Help! Help!"The next instant the door of the building swung open, letting out a flood of light upon the exhausted lad, and a voice asked:"Who are you? Where are you?""Here!" answered Budd, feebly, stretching out his hands toward the stranger, who sprung forward and caught him just as he was falling helplessly at his feet.The stranger was a youth no older nor larger than Budd himself; but he showed that he possessed enormous strength by lifting his helpless companion in his arms and carrying him into the house.Closing the door against the storm, he went to work upon Budd with a directness and skill that showed he knew just what to do for an exhausted person. The wet clothing was stripped off; the numbed and chilled body was rubbed until the blood began to circulate freely 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 end here. From some unseen quarter he brought forth a tin cup, and filled it with hot coffee from a pot on the stove. Milk and sugar were also fished out of their hiding-places and added to the beverage; then the whole was put to Budd's lips, with the simple comment:"There; drink that down, and I'll warrant you'll be kicking round here as lively as a kitten, in a few minutes."Budd drained the offered cup, and then said, gratefully:"I don't know how I shall ever repay you for your kindness to me. I was pretty near used up, I declare."The young host took the cup from his guest without a word and refilled it. Sipping this slowly off himself, he eyed his visitor until he had finished it; then he asked, abruptly:"Will you tell me how you came here, Budd Boyd?""Where am I? Who are you?" asked Budd, surprised that the lad had called him by name, and sure that he had never seen him before.The boy-host gave a comical shrug of his shoulders, and with a flourishing gesture answered:"I am Judd Floyd, at your service. This is Fox Island, where I have for the present taken up my solitary abode, and am monarch of all I survey. But how came you here in all this tempest? Did you see my light streaming far across the watery deep, and attempt to walk over? Hanged if I wouldn't think so, from the looks of your clothes!"Weak as he was, Budd could not help laughing at the serio-comic air of his companion, but as briefly as possible he related his adventure."'Twas a close shave, now, wasn't it?" Judd said, with a shrill whistle, as Budd concluded. "I don't want to try that sail, at least on that kind of a craft, such a night as this, you bet. Lucky for you I was here, else you might have perished from sheer exhaustion before morning."Budd at once admitted this; then he asked:"But how is it that you knew me? And how long have you been here?""Oh! I've seen you up at the village with Benton's ox-team, and inquired your name. I couldn't help remembering it, for it sounds much like my own. Yours is Budd Boyd, and mine is Judd Floyd. Guess we must be sort of second-rate twins," said the irrepressible Judd with a comical grin; and indeed the lads, in size, figure and features, were not unlike."How long have I been here?" he went on."Just a week to-night, by actual count. You see, I have lived, as far back as I can remember, in an old shanty just out of the village. Pop got drunk as a steady business, and ma took in washing and 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 got rather tired of this world, and went where I trust she has peace and rest. She deserves them, for she never had them here;" and the lad tried to keep back the tears that would gather in his eyes."Well, after her death pop carried on worse than ever, and so the town authorities sent him up to the State Farm for a six-month term as an habitual drunkard. Then the same worthy individuals that disposed of him talked of putting me on the Poor Farm down there on Quidnessett Neck; but I had a slight objection to the arrangement, and the next morning I was among the missing."I'd been over here before, and knew there was an old stove, a chair or two, and some other odd pieces of furniture in the house; so I packed up a few necessary traps at the shanty, stowed them aboard pop's old boat, and came over here by night. Here, too, I've remained in undisputed possession ever since.""How do you live?" asked Budd, with a good deal of curiosity."Oh! that's easy enough," said Judd, with a laugh. "I catch fish and dig clams. Some I eat; the rest I sell. That enables me to purchase what groceries and 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 odd jobs enough. I shall fare as well as I have ever done, I assure you. I'm no pauper--not if I know myself. By the way, won't you have something to eat?"Without waiting for Budd to answer, he drew up before the fire a large box. On this he spread a cloth; then he brought out some cold ham, some fresh bread, butter, cookies, poured out another cup of coffee, and remarked:"I've eaten supper already, but help yourself. There's more, when this is gone."Budd accepted his host's hospitality and made out a comfortable meal.Then Judd said:"I'm sorry I've no bed for you to sleep on. That old pallet is all I brought over, but you are welcome to that. I'll roll up in a blanket and sleep on the floor. It won't be the first time I've done it;" and soon both boys were sound asleep.The next morning Budd felt quite like himself; but the storm still raged, and he was obliged to remain quietly with his new friend. Toward noon, however, the force of the tempest was spent, and Judd announced his willingness to take the anxious lad over to the main-land after dinner.So not far from one o'clock they embarked in Judd's boat, and a half-hour later landed safely on "The Hummocks." Budd could find no trace of either the oxen or the missing wheels of the cart, and with a heavy heart he started off for Mr. Benton's.As Judd parted with him he remarked:"I say, Budd, I wouldn't be in your shoes for a good deal. There is no knowing what old Benton will do to you for losing his cart and oxen. You'd better go back to the island with me, and let him think you are dead.""No," said Budd. "My duty is to go to him and tell him the whole story, let the consequences be what they may, and I shall do it.""I always did admire pluck," replied Judd, in undisguised admiration, "and you have it. I'd rather take your sail of last night than go back and face the old tyrant. Only, if he kicks you off of the farm, remember you are welcome to go pards with me on the island. It's better than no place to lay your head."Thanking him for the invitation, which he knew was as genuine as it was rough, Budd turned away and walked slowly along the roadway leading to Mr. Benton's, wondering greatly what that cruel and grasping man would really say and do when he 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 gratitude, even in that stony heart, that the pecuniary loss he had experienced would be forgotten by the avaricious man? Budd hoped so; and yet it was with terrible misgivings he went bravely on, to meet whatever fate might be in store for him.
CHAPTER IV.--A NEW FRIEND.How long Budd remained unconscious he never exactly knew. It must have been some hours, however, for when he recovered sufficiently to look about him it was night; at least a darkness almost thick 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 distance away. He was evidently lying upon a hard board or floor; yet to it there was a gentle, undulating motion, like that of a boat in some sheltered harbor, or drawn, bow up, onto a sandy beach.With difficulty he sat up. His clothes were heavy with water, and he was stiff and numb from cold and exposure. He put out his right hand, and it rested upon a short board 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 some way become detached from its wheels. It must have been this into which he had been providentially thrown just as he had lost consciousness. Butwherewas the cart-body?Certainly it was no longer tossed about by the angry waters of the bay. Where, then, had it landed? He rose up, and his head came so forcibly in contact with a heavy planking that he was 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 ever the side, he found himself standing in a few inches of water. Walking directly ahead a few steps, he came up against a solid wall, that extended either way farther than he could reach.He now knew that he was under some wharf, where the waves had tossed the cart-bed. This accounted for the planking above his head, 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 for the heavy darkness settled around. Butwhatwharf was it? Which way should he go to find the opening by which he had entered?He straightened himself up and looked steadily first in one and then in an opposite direction. He soon became convinced that to the left he could see a little more clearly than to the right, and that it was from that direction that came what little air he could feel stirring. In that direction, then, he determined to go.As he advanced the water deepened, and the roof became more elevated. Not only could he now stand erect, but the planking was higher above his head than he could reach. Soon the stone wall ceased, and wooden piles heavily 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 was very dark, yet not with the intenseness he had experienced under the wharf. The wind and the rain beat fiercely upon him. Unless some house were near, he had better return under the dock for shelter and wait for morning.With the little strength that remained to him he drew himself up onto the wharf and looked anxiously about him. As he looked, a great hope sprung up within his heart. 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 as the walk was, it exhausted him. He was afraid that he would not reach the house from whose window he now knew the light shone forth, and in his despair he shouted:"Help! Help!"The next instant the door of the building swung open, letting out a flood of light upon the exhausted lad, and a voice asked:"Who are you? Where are you?""Here!" answered Budd, feebly, stretching out his hands toward the stranger, who sprung forward and caught him just as he was falling helplessly at his feet.The stranger was a youth no older nor larger than Budd himself; but he showed that he possessed enormous strength by lifting his helpless companion in his arms and carrying him into the house.Closing the door against the storm, he went to work upon Budd with a directness and skill that showed he knew just what to do for an exhausted person. The wet clothing was stripped off; the numbed and chilled body was rubbed until the blood began to circulate freely 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 end here. From some unseen quarter he brought forth a tin cup, and filled it with hot coffee from a pot on the stove. Milk and sugar were also fished out of their hiding-places and added to the beverage; then the whole was put to Budd's lips, with the simple comment:"There; drink that down, and I'll warrant you'll be kicking round here as lively as a kitten, in a few minutes."Budd drained the offered cup, and then said, gratefully:"I don't know how I shall ever repay you for your kindness to me. I was pretty near used up, I declare."The young host took the cup from his guest without a word and refilled it. Sipping this slowly off himself, he eyed his visitor until he had finished it; then he asked, abruptly:"Will you tell me how you came here, Budd Boyd?""Where am I? Who are you?" asked Budd, surprised that the lad had called him by name, and sure that he had never seen him before.The boy-host gave a comical shrug of his shoulders, and with a flourishing gesture answered:"I am Judd Floyd, at your service. This is Fox Island, where I have for the present taken up my solitary abode, and am monarch of all I survey. But how came you here in all this tempest? Did you see my light streaming far across the watery deep, and attempt to walk over? Hanged if I wouldn't think so, from the looks of your clothes!"Weak as he was, Budd could not help laughing at the serio-comic air of his companion, but as briefly as possible he related his adventure."'Twas a close shave, now, wasn't it?" Judd said, with a shrill whistle, as Budd concluded. "I don't want to try that sail, at least on that kind of a craft, such a night as this, you bet. Lucky for you I was here, else you might have perished from sheer exhaustion before morning."Budd at once admitted this; then he asked:"But how is it that you knew me? And how long have you been here?""Oh! I've seen you up at the village with Benton's ox-team, and inquired your name. I couldn't help remembering it, for it sounds much like my own. Yours is Budd Boyd, and mine is Judd Floyd. Guess we must be sort of second-rate twins," said the irrepressible Judd with a comical grin; and indeed the lads, in size, figure and features, were not unlike."How long have I been here?" he went on."Just a week to-night, by actual count. You see, I have lived, as far back as I can remember, in an old shanty just out of the village. Pop got drunk as a steady business, and ma took in washing and 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 got rather tired of this world, and went where I trust she has peace and rest. She deserves them, for she never had them here;" and the lad tried to keep back the tears that would gather in his eyes."Well, after her death pop carried on worse than ever, and so the town authorities sent him up to the State Farm for a six-month term as an habitual drunkard. Then the same worthy individuals that disposed of him talked of putting me on the Poor Farm down there on Quidnessett Neck; but I had a slight objection to the arrangement, and the next morning I was among the missing."I'd been over here before, and knew there was an old stove, a chair or two, and some other odd pieces of furniture in the house; so I packed up a few necessary traps at the shanty, stowed them aboard pop's old boat, and came over here by night. Here, too, I've remained in undisputed possession ever since.""How do you live?" asked Budd, with a good deal of curiosity."Oh! that's easy enough," said Judd, with a laugh. "I catch fish and dig clams. Some I eat; the rest I sell. That enables me to purchase what groceries and 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 odd jobs enough. I shall fare as well as I have ever done, I assure you. I'm no pauper--not if I know myself. By the way, won't you have something to eat?"Without waiting for Budd to answer, he drew up before the fire a large box. On this he spread a cloth; then he brought out some cold ham, some fresh bread, butter, cookies, poured out another cup of coffee, and remarked:"I've eaten supper already, but help yourself. There's more, when this is gone."Budd accepted his host's hospitality and made out a comfortable meal.Then Judd said:"I'm sorry I've no bed for you to sleep on. That old pallet is all I brought over, but you are welcome to that. I'll roll up in a blanket and sleep on the floor. It won't be the first time I've done it;" and soon both boys were sound asleep.The next morning Budd felt quite like himself; but the storm still raged, and he was obliged to remain quietly with his new friend. Toward noon, however, the force of the tempest was spent, and Judd announced his willingness to take the anxious lad over to the main-land after dinner.So not far from one o'clock they embarked in Judd's boat, and a half-hour later landed safely on "The Hummocks." Budd could find no trace of either the oxen or the missing wheels of the cart, and with a heavy heart he started off for Mr. Benton's.As Judd parted with him he remarked:"I say, Budd, I wouldn't be in your shoes for a good deal. There is no knowing what old Benton will do to you for losing his cart and oxen. You'd better go back to the island with me, and let him think you are dead.""No," said Budd. "My duty is to go to him and tell him the whole story, let the consequences be what they may, and I shall do it.""I always did admire pluck," replied Judd, in undisguised admiration, "and you have it. I'd rather take your sail of last night than go back and face the old tyrant. Only, if he kicks you off of the farm, remember you are welcome to go pards with me on the island. It's better than no place to lay your head."Thanking him for the invitation, which he knew was as genuine as it was rough, Budd turned away and walked slowly along the roadway leading to Mr. Benton's, wondering greatly what that cruel and grasping man would really say and do when he 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 gratitude, even in that stony heart, that the pecuniary loss he had experienced would be forgotten by the avaricious man? Budd hoped so; and yet it was with terrible misgivings he went bravely on, to meet whatever fate might be in store for him.
How long Budd remained unconscious he never exactly knew. It must have been some hours, however, for when he recovered sufficiently to look about him it was night; at least a darkness almost thick 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 distance away. He was evidently lying upon a hard board or floor; yet to it there was a gentle, undulating motion, like that of a boat in some sheltered harbor, or drawn, bow up, onto a sandy beach.
With difficulty he sat up. His clothes were heavy with water, and he was stiff and numb from cold and exposure. He put out his right hand, and it rested upon a short board 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 some way become detached from its wheels. It must have been this into which he had been providentially thrown just as he had lost consciousness. Butwherewas the cart-body?
Certainly it was no longer tossed about by the angry waters of the bay. Where, then, had it landed? He rose up, and his head came so forcibly in contact with a heavy planking that he was 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 ever the side, he found himself standing in a few inches of water. Walking directly ahead a few steps, he came up against a solid wall, that extended either way farther than he could reach.
He now knew that he was under some wharf, where the waves had tossed the cart-bed. This accounted for the planking above his head, 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 for the heavy darkness settled around. Butwhatwharf was it? Which way should he go to find the opening by which he had entered?
He straightened himself up and looked steadily first in one and then in an opposite direction. He soon became convinced that to the left he could see a little more clearly than to the right, and that it was from that direction that came what little air he could feel stirring. In that direction, then, he determined to go.
As he advanced the water deepened, and the roof became more elevated. Not only could he now stand erect, but the planking was higher above his head than he could reach. Soon the stone wall ceased, and wooden piles heavily 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 was very dark, yet not with the intenseness he had experienced under the wharf. The wind and the rain beat fiercely upon him. Unless some house were near, he had better return under the dock for shelter and wait for morning.
With the little strength that remained to him he drew himself up onto the wharf and looked anxiously about him. As he looked, a great hope sprung up within his heart. 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 as the walk was, it exhausted him. He was afraid that he would not reach the house from whose window he now knew the light shone forth, and in his despair he shouted:
"Help! Help!"
The next instant the door of the building swung open, letting out a flood of light upon the exhausted lad, and a voice asked:
"Who are you? Where are you?"
"Here!" answered Budd, feebly, stretching out his hands toward the stranger, who sprung forward and caught him just as he was falling helplessly at his feet.
The stranger was a youth no older nor larger than Budd himself; but he showed that he possessed enormous strength by lifting his helpless companion in his arms and carrying him into the house.
Closing the door against the storm, he went to work upon Budd with a directness and skill that showed he knew just what to do for an exhausted person. The wet clothing was stripped off; the numbed and chilled body was rubbed until the blood began to circulate freely 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 end here. From some unseen quarter he brought forth a tin cup, and filled it with hot coffee from a pot on the stove. Milk and sugar were also fished out of their hiding-places and added to the beverage; then the whole was put to Budd's lips, with the simple comment:
"There; drink that down, and I'll warrant you'll be kicking round here as lively as a kitten, in a few minutes."
Budd drained the offered cup, and then said, gratefully:
"I don't know how I shall ever repay you for your kindness to me. I was pretty near used up, I declare."
The young host took the cup from his guest without a word and refilled it. Sipping this slowly off himself, he eyed his visitor until he had finished it; then he asked, abruptly:
"Will you tell me how you came here, Budd Boyd?"
"Where am I? Who are you?" asked Budd, surprised that the lad had called him by name, and sure that he had never seen him before.
The boy-host gave a comical shrug of his shoulders, and with a flourishing gesture answered:
"I am Judd Floyd, at your service. This is Fox Island, where I have for the present taken up my solitary abode, and am monarch of all I survey. But how came you here in all this tempest? Did you see my light streaming far across the watery deep, and attempt to walk over? Hanged if I wouldn't think so, from the looks of your clothes!"
Weak as he was, Budd could not help laughing at the serio-comic air of his companion, but as briefly as possible he related his adventure.
"'Twas a close shave, now, wasn't it?" Judd said, with a shrill whistle, as Budd concluded. "I don't want to try that sail, at least on that kind of a craft, such a night as this, you bet. Lucky for you I was here, else you might have perished from sheer exhaustion before morning."
Budd at once admitted this; then he asked:
"But how is it that you knew me? And how long have you been here?"
"Oh! I've seen you up at the village with Benton's ox-team, and inquired your name. I couldn't help remembering it, for it sounds much like my own. Yours is Budd Boyd, and mine is Judd Floyd. Guess we must be sort of second-rate twins," said the irrepressible Judd with a comical grin; and indeed the lads, in size, figure and features, were not unlike.
"How long have I been here?" he went on.
"Just a week to-night, by actual count. You see, I have lived, as far back as I can remember, in an old shanty just out of the village. Pop got drunk as a steady business, and ma took in washing and 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 got rather tired of this world, and went where I trust she has peace and rest. She deserves them, for she never had them here;" and the lad tried to keep back the tears that would gather in his eyes.
"Well, after her death pop carried on worse than ever, and so the town authorities sent him up to the State Farm for a six-month term as an habitual drunkard. Then the same worthy individuals that disposed of him talked of putting me on the Poor Farm down there on Quidnessett Neck; but I had a slight objection to the arrangement, and the next morning I was among the missing.
"I'd been over here before, and knew there was an old stove, a chair or two, and some other odd pieces of furniture in the house; so I packed up a few necessary traps at the shanty, stowed them aboard pop's old boat, and came over here by night. Here, too, I've remained in undisputed possession ever since."
"How do you live?" asked Budd, with a good deal of curiosity.
"Oh! that's easy enough," said Judd, with a laugh. "I catch fish and dig clams. Some I eat; the rest I sell. That enables me to purchase what groceries and 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 odd jobs enough. I shall fare as well as I have ever done, I assure you. I'm no pauper--not if I know myself. By the way, won't you have something to eat?"
Without waiting for Budd to answer, he drew up before the fire a large box. On this he spread a cloth; then he brought out some cold ham, some fresh bread, butter, cookies, poured out another cup of coffee, and remarked:
"I've eaten supper already, but help yourself. There's more, when this is gone."
Budd accepted his host's hospitality and made out a comfortable meal.
Then Judd said:
"I'm sorry I've no bed for you to sleep on. That old pallet is all I brought over, but you are welcome to that. I'll roll up in a blanket and sleep on the floor. It won't be the first time I've done it;" and soon both boys were sound asleep.
The next morning Budd felt quite like himself; but the storm still raged, and he was obliged to remain quietly with his new friend. Toward noon, however, the force of the tempest was spent, and Judd announced his willingness to take the anxious lad over to the main-land after dinner.
So not far from one o'clock they embarked in Judd's boat, and a half-hour later landed safely on "The Hummocks." Budd could find no trace of either the oxen or the missing wheels of the cart, and with a heavy heart he started off for Mr. Benton's.
As Judd parted with him he remarked:
"I say, Budd, I wouldn't be in your shoes for a good deal. There is no knowing what old Benton will do to you for losing his cart and oxen. You'd better go back to the island with me, and let him think you are dead."
"No," said Budd. "My duty is to go to him and tell him the whole story, let the consequences be what they may, and I shall do it."
"I always did admire pluck," replied Judd, in undisguised admiration, "and you have it. I'd rather take your sail of last night than go back and face the old tyrant. Only, if he kicks you off of the farm, remember you are welcome to go pards with me on the island. It's better than no place to lay your head."
Thanking him for the invitation, which he knew was as genuine as it was rough, Budd turned away and walked slowly along the roadway leading to Mr. Benton's, wondering greatly what that cruel and grasping man would really say and do when he 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 gratitude, even in that stony heart, that the pecuniary loss he had experienced would be forgotten by the avaricious man? Budd hoped so; and yet it was with terrible misgivings he went bravely on, to meet whatever fate might be in store for him.