birds and squirrels, and then lay down under a tree to read a book he had brought with him.

But it failed to interest him, and his mind persisted in dwelling upon the unkindness with which he was so systematically treated, both at home and at school.

“I wonder if it will ever be any different?” he thought, as he sprang to his feet at last. “If I only could get to the head of the grammar class just once, they might treat me better. But of course there is no use in thinking of that, for there’s no chance of it.”

He strolled through the woods, his steps turning unconsciously in the direction of the secret cave.

He had almost reached it, when he suddenly became aware of where he was, and started to retrace his steps, fearing the boys would come out and discover him there.

But scarcely had he turned when, to his amazement, he saw old Sim Kane come rushing toward him from the direction of the cave.

The old man’s face was pallid with excitement, and he was swinging his long arms, and muttering and laughing to himself in a way that made Davy’s blood run cold.

“Sim! Sim! what’s the matter?” he cried.

But the old man paid no attention to him, and not pausing to question him again, but sure there was trouble of some sort at the cave, Davy ran toward that secret retreat.

His ears soon told him what the trouble was. The great pile of brush which concealed the entrance to the cave had been set on fire!

Terrible was the vengeance which the half-demented old man had taken on his boyish persecutors.

Davy, with a loud cry of horror, and forgetting in that awful moment all his own wrongs, seized a stout branch, and rushed upon the pile of brush without a moment’s hesitation.

The entire mouth of the cave was a mass of flame, and it was no easy matter to scatter the burning brands, so intense was the heat.

But Davy fought the fire right and left, with a wild energy far beyond his strength and years, and at last the mouth of the cave was clear, and the fresh air could enter it again.

Then, exhausted, faint, and suffering most intense agony from a dozen terrible burns, the brave boy sank to the ground.

At first he was scarcely conscious, but presently he became aware that some one was bending over him, and opening his eyes, he saw Fred Bassett’s face, so full of pity, admiration and kindness that poor Davy scarcely recognized it.

“We didn’t deserve this good turn of you, Davy,” said the boy. “But I can’t tell you how thankful we are to you. But for you we would have been suffocated inside of ten minutes. It was that old Sim who set the fire. We were busy at the back of the cave, making it deeper, and didn’t know anything about the fire until we heard the old man shout at us from the window overhead. He was half mad with joy, and was just about to light the brush on the window. He must have fired the pile in front in twenty places. There was no use in trying to get out. It was like a wall of fire. I tell you, we all thought our time had come. It was just awful.”

“I’m glad I came when I did,” said Davy, gently. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to help me home. My feet are so

badly burned I don’t believe I can take a step.”

“As if we’d let you even think of walking!” exclaimed Fred. “We’ll rig up a litter in short order.”

So Davy was carried into the village in state by seven of the boys, while the two others went on ahead to tell Miss Potter what had happened and engage the services of a doctor.

And it was not until his wounds were all dressed, and he was lying quietly in bed, with Fred Bassett and Tom Harper sitting beside him, that Davy happened to think that the “turn” for which he had waited so long had come at last, and he had failed to take the revenge he had so ardently desired.

But he never regretted this, for he never had to complain again of unkind treatment from either his aunt or his schoolmates. For Miss Potter, in taking care of her young nephew during the three weeks he was confined to the house, found good qualities of head and heart the existence of which she had never before even suspected, and she made up her mind that she had thought Davy a burden because she had never really understood him.

As to the boys—well, they made a hero of Davy, and the “Mystic Nine” became the “Mystic Ten,” by the admission to membership of the shy, freckled-faced boy who was always at the bottom of his classes.

And affection and encouragement brightened up Davy’s wits so much that he ceased before long to occupy that unenviable and lowly position, and astonished his teacher by his rapid progress.

No punishment was ever meted out to old Sim; but it is scarcely necessary to say that the boys were careful to let him severely alone after that memorable Saturday on which Davy became a hero.