Fred was perfectly willing, and proceeded to search until he had discovered part of a loaf of home-made bread, and the coffee that was so necessary to warm the poor girl. There was a strip of bacon a few inches thick, some flour, grits—and these were about all.

Just then Bristles came over to where he was putting the coffee in the pot.

"I've just remembered who that sick man is, Fred!" he said, in a low tone, but with a vein of satisfaction in it, for he had been racking his memory all the while.

"Who is he, then?" Fred asked, a bit eagerly.

"Why," Bristles went on, "you see, his name is Masterson!"

CHAPTER V

HOW GOOD SPRANG FROM EVIL

"Masterson, did you say, Bristles?" Fred asked, hurriedly, as he closed the communicating door between the two rooms, and came back to the side of his chum.

"Yep, that's it," replied the other, briskly, proud of having solved what promised to be a puzzle. "He used to live in Riverport years ago, when I was a kid; he and his girl Sarah."

"Is he any relation to Squire Lemington, do you know?" asked Fred.

"Sure, that's a fact, he is; a nephew, I reckon," answered Bristles, thoughtfully. "I remember there was some sort of talk about this Arnold Masterson; I kind of think he got in a fuss with the Squire, and there was a lawsuit. But shucks, that don't matter to us, Fred, not a whit. These people are up against it, hard as nails, and we've just got to do something for 'em when we get back."

"That's right, we will," asserted Fred.

He was thinking hard as he said this. Was it not a strange thing that he should in this way place another Masterson under heavy obligations? He had done Hiram a good turn that won the gratitude of the man from Alaska; and now here it was a brother and a niece who had cause for thanking him.

Perhaps there was something more than accident in this. If Hiram ever did return, which Fred was almost ready to doubt, he would be apt to hear about what had happened at the lonely farmhouse; and if he cared at all for his folks, his debt must be doubled by the kind deed of the Fenton boy.

"And believe me," Bristles went on, not noticing the way Fred was pondering over the intelligence he had just communicated; "we just can't get busy collecting some grub for this poor family any too soon. Why, they're cleaned out, that's what! Never knew anybody could live from hand to mouth like this. Why couldn't they get that German farmer, who lives a mile or two away, to haul some stuff from Grafton, if the girl couldn't walk there?"

"You forget that the man said he didn't have even a dollar, when those tramps threatened to torture him, to make him tell where he had his treasure; and Bristles, it takes cold cash to buy things these days. Old Dog Trust is dead, the merchants say. But hurry that coffee along. Hello! here's a part of a can of condensed milk, and some sugar. That's good!"

Fred went into the other room about that time; for hearing voices, he imagined the girl must have put on some dry clothes hurriedly, and once more descended to be with her sick father.

She looked better, Fred thought, and there was even a slight color in her cheeks. He was afraid, however, of what the long exposure might bring, and determined that Doctor Temple must hear of the case. A little care right then might be the means of warding off a severe illness.

"Please go in the kitchen, and stand near the stove all you can, miss," he said.

"But I am not cold any longer," she replied, giving him a smile that told of the gratitude in her heart.

"You need all the warmth you can get," he insisted. "As soon as the coffee is ready, you must swallow a cup or two of it, piping hot. And I think it would do your father good, too."

Accordingly, as there seemed to be a vein of authority in his voice, the girl complied. She found that the coffee was already beginning to simmer, and send out a fragrant smell; for Bristles had made a furious fire, regardless of consequences.

"Hope I don't burn your house down, Sarah," he said. "Excuse me, but I used to know you a long time ago, when you lived in Riverport. My name is Bris—that is, at home they call me Andy Carpenter."

"Oh! I do remember you now," she replied, quickly; "but it is so long ago. Father never mentions Riverport any more; he seems to hate the name. I think some one wronged him there, and it must have been my uncle, because every time I happened to speak of him, he would grow angry, and finally told me never to mention that name again. But you have made this coffee very strong, Andy."

"Fred told me to; he said you both needed it," answered the boy. "And I wouldn't worry if I was you, because I used up all there is. We're going to see that more comes along this way, and that before night."

"Oh! it makes me feel ashamed to think that we are going to be objects of charity," the girl commenced to say, when Bristles stopped her.

"Now, that isn't it at all, Sarah!" he declared, with vehemence; "your pa is a sick man, and unless he gets a doctor soon you may lose him. So I'd just pocket that pride of yours, and let the neighbors do what they want. And if you've been fleeced by that shark of a Squire Lemington, why, there are a lot of others in the same fix. I'd like to see them run him out of town; but he owns a heap of property around Riverport, and that would be hard to do, I suppose. Say, don't that coffee smell good though; you know the kind to get, seems like."

"Johann Swain brought that over the last time he came," she replied, somewhat confused on account of having to make the confession that they were already indebted to another for favors.

When the coffee was done Fred came out and secured a cup of it for the sick man; while Sarah sat down at the kitchen table to drink her portion. Bristles was almost famishing for a taste, but he would not have accepted the first drop, had it smelled twice as good.

After making the two as comfortable as possible, the two boys once more prepared to start on their run toward home. Of course they must expect to come in the very last of all, owing to all these delays; but it was little they cared.

"Expect company before long," sang out Bristles, as, having shaken hands with the sick man and Sarah, they turned to wave farewell to the girl, standing in the open door, and with something approaching a smile on her wan face.

Fred made a proposition before they had gone more than fifty yards.

"What's the use of our finishing, Bristles?" he remarked. "We're hopelessly beaten right now. Suppose we head for home, and get busy going around to speak to a few of our friends about these people here. I want Doc. Temple to come out; and I know Flo will insist on it when she hears about that poor girl."

"Three to one she comes with him; and that the buggy is crammed full of all the good things they've got at home," asserted Bristles; "because there never was a girl with a bigger heart than Flo."

Fred was of the same opinion himself, though he only nodded, and smiled.

"You see your father, and then drop in to talk it over with several others," he went on to say. "Leave Judge Colon for me. I want to ask him a few questions about what happened between Arnold Masterson and his rich uncle, to make Sarah's father hate him so, and avoid Riverport in the bargain."

When they arrived home the boys quickly changed their clothes, and then started in to tell the