When he had progressed but a little way in the narrative, the noise of an approaching vehicle was heard.  Sam looked out of the window, as almost every body does in the country when a carriage passes.

“By thunder!  It’s the Reform School wagon!” exclaimed he.  “This way, boy!” and the good-hearted man thrust him into his chamber, bidding him get under the bed.

The carriage stopped at the house; but Sam evaded direct reply, and the superintendent—­for it was he—­proceeded on his search.

“Heaven bless you, Mr. Ray!” exclaimed Bobby, when he came out of the chamber, as the tears of gratitude coursed down his cheeks.

“O, you will find Sam Ray all right,” said he, warmly pressing Bobby’s proffered hand.  “I ain’t quite a heathen, though some folks around here think so.”

“You are an angel!”

“Not exactly,” laughed Sam.

Our hero finished his story, and confirmed it by exhibiting his account book and some other papers which he had retained.  Sam Ray was satisfied, and vowed that if ever he saw Tom Spicer he would certainly “lick” him for his sake.

“Now, sonny, I like you; I will be sworn you are a good fellow; and I mean to help you off.  So just come along with me.  I make my living by browsing round, hunting and fishing a little, and doing an odd job now and then.  You see, I have got a good boat down the creek, and I shall just put you aboard and take you any where you have a mind to go.”

“May Heaven reward you!” cried Bobby, almost overcome by this sudden and unexpected kindness.

“O, I don’t want no reward; only when you get to be a great man—­and I am dead sure you will be a great man—­just think now and then of Sam Ray, and it’s all right.”

“I shall remember you with gratitude as long as I live.”

Sam Ray took his gun on his shoulder, and Bobby the box of provision which Mrs. Ray had put up, and they left the house.  At the bridge they got into a little skiff, and Sam took the oars.  After they had passed a bend in the creek which concealed them from the road, Bobby felt secure from further molestation.

Sam pulled about two miles down the creek, where it widened into a broad bay, near the head of which was anchored a small schooner.

“Now, my hearty, nothing short of Uncle Sam’s whole navy can get you away from me,” said Sam, as he pulled alongside the schooner.

“You have been very kind to me.”

“All right, sonny.  Now tumble aboard.”

Bobby jumped upon the deck of the little craft and Sam followed him, after making fast the skiff to the schooner’s moorings.

In a few minutes the little vessel was standing down the bay with “a fresh wind and a flowing sheet.”  Bobby, who had never been in a sail boat before, was delighted, and in no measured terms expressed his admiration of the working of the trim little craft.

“Now, sonny, where shall we go?” asked Sam, as they emerged from the bay into the broad ocean.