Now it was opened last.  It had come all the way from Silver Ranch, of course.  Such a set of furs no girl at Briarwood possessed.  There were a number of other presents from the cowboys, from Mrs. Sally, and from Bashful Ike himself.  Ann was so pleased and touched that she ran away to hide her tears.

There were presents for each of the girls and boys who had been at Bullhide the previous summer.  Bill Hicks had forgotten nobody, and, as Mrs. Tellingham had once said, the ranchman certainly was a generous man.

No member of the house party was overlooked on this bright Christmas morning.  Mercy’s presents were as costly and numerous as those of any other girl.  Besides, the lame girl had been able to give her mates beautiful little keepsakes that expressed her love for them quite as much as would have articles that cost more money.

Her presents to the boys were funny, including a jumping jack on a stick to Isadore, the face of which Mercy had whittled out and painted to look a good deal like the features of that active youth.

For two hours the young folk reveled in their presents.  Then suddenly Heavy smelled the breakfast coffee and she led the charge to the long dining room.  They were in the midst of the meal when Mr. Tingley himself arrived, having reached Logwood on the early train and driven across the ice in a sleigh.

The Tingley young people met him hilariously.  He was a big, bewhiskered man, with a jolly laugh and amiable manner.  His eye could flash, too, if need be, Ruth judged.  And almost at once she had an opportunity of seeing him stern.

“What crowd is that over at the west end of the island?” he asked his wife.  “I see they have a fire.  There must be four or five men there.  Is it some of Blent’s doings?”

“Oh, Dad!” cried Ralph Tingley, eagerly.  “You ought to stop that.  Those fellows are hunting Jerry Sheming.”

“Who is Jerry Sheming?” he asked, quickly.

Mrs. Tingley explained briefly.

“I remember now,” said her husband.  “And this is the young lady who spoke a good word for the boy in the first place?” and he beckoned the eager Ruth to them.  “What have you to say for your protege now, Miss?”

“Everything that is good,” declared the girl of the Red Mill, quickly.  “I am sure he is not at all the sort of boy this man Blent would have you believe.  And perhaps, Mr. Tingley, his old uncle may have had some title to a part of this island.”

“That puts me in bad, then—­eh?” chuckled Mr. Tingley.

“Unless Mr. Blent has cheated you, sir,” suggested Ruth, hesitatingly.

“He’s a foxy old fellow.  But I believe I have safeguarded myself.  This trouble about something being buried on the island—­Well!  I don’t know about that.”

“I believe Jerry really has some idea now where his uncle put the box.  Even if the old hunter was crazy, he might have had some valuables.  And surely Jerry has a better right to the box than Blent,” Ruth said, indignantly.