Benedict and Harry had not been idle during his absence.  A deer had been shot and dressed; trout had been caught and saved alive; a cave had been dug for the preservation of vegetables; and when Jim shouted, far down the stream, to announce his approach, there were three happy persons on shore, waiting to welcome him—­Turk being the third, and apparently oblivious of the fact that he was not as much a human being as any of the party.  Turk added the “tiger” to Harry’s three cheers, and Jim was as glad as a boy when his boat touched the shore, and he received the affectionate greetings of the party.

A choice meal was nearly in readiness for him, but not a mouthful would he taste until he had unfolded his treasures, and displayed to the astonished eyes of Mr. Benedict and the lad the comfortable clothing he had brought for them.

“Take ’em to Number Ten and put ’em on,” said Jim.  “I’m a goin’ to eat with big folks to-day, if clo’es can make ’em.  Them’s yer stockin’s and them’s yer boots, and them’s yer indigoes and them’s yer clo’es.”

Jim’s idea of the word “indigoes” was, that it drew its meaning partly from the color of the articles designated, and partly from their office.  They were blue undergoes—­in other words, blue flannel shirts.

Jim sat down and waited.  He saw that, while Harry was hilarious over his good fortune, Mr. Benedict was very silent and humble.  It was twenty minutes before Harry reappeared; and when he came bounding toward Jim, even Turk did not know him.  Jim embraced him, and could not help feeling that he had acquired a certain amount of property in the lad.

When Mr. Benedict came forth from the little cabin, and found Jim chaffing and petting his boy, he was much embarrassed.  He could not speak, but walked directly past the pair, and went out upon the bank of the river, with his eyes averted.

Jim comprehended it all.  Leaving Harry, he went up to his guest, and placed his hand upon his shoulder.  “Will ye furgive me, Mr. Benedict?  I didn’t go fur to make it hard fur ye.”

“Jim,” said Mr. Benedict, struggling to retain his composure, “I can never repay your overwhelming kindness, and the fact oppresses me.”

“Well,” said Jim, “I s’pose I don’t make ’lowance enough fur the difference in folks.  Ye think ye oughter pay fur this sort o’ thing, an’ I don’t want no pay.  I git comfort enough outen it, anyway.”

Benedict turned, took and warmly pressed Jim’s hand, and then they went back to their dinner.  After they had eaten, and Jim had sat down to his pipe, he told his guests that they were to have visitors that night—­a man from the city and his little boy—­and that they would spend a fortnight with them.  The news alarmed Mr. Benedict, for his nerves were still weak, and it was a long time before he could be reconciled to the thought of intrusion upon his solitude; but Jim reassured him by his enthusiastic accounts of Mr. Balfour, and Harry was overjoyed with the thought of having a companion in the strange lad.