“At length, O, at length, I’m a free man, and no longer subject to a keeper’s nod.  I can call my soul and body my own property, and look a policeman in the face without trembling.  Ah, blessed liberty, how much I have longed for thee!”

He kissed the pardon—­he kissed his name, which was written in a bold hand on the document—­and then pressed to his lips the signature of the governor.

“Do you now feel truly happy?” asked Fred.

“I feel so joyous that there is nothing on earth which I crave,” replied Smith.

“Then we may ask you to lend us your aid before many days, and I hope that you will not refuse.”

“Me refuse?  Ask of me the most difficult task and I will do it; for to you do I owe freedom,” cried our friend, enthusiastically.

Fred was about to confide to him the secret of the buried treasure, and solicit his aid, when we were interrupted by the entrance of a stranger, dressed in the uniform of an English officer.

“I beg your pardon, sirs,” he said, glancing around the hut with a slightly supercilious air at the want of comfort which was plainly manifest, “but I think I have entered the wrong house.”

“We cannot tell whether you have or not, until we know what your business is,” replied Fred.

“My business has reference to two gentlemen who dined with the governor yesterday, and were conspicuous at the fire night before last,” replied the officer, who was a young man, and of prepossessing appearance.

“Then it is very probable we are the parties,” said Fred, carelessly.  “We dined with the governor yesterday, and we did something towards extinguishing the fire on Collins Street night before last.”

“One other question, gentlemen, and I shall be certain.  Are you Americans?” demanded the officer.

“We claim the United States as our home, and to the best of our belief, we were born there,” I answered, wondering what the fellow was driving at.

“Then you will excuse me for the disagreeable duty which I have taken upon myself.  Night before last one of you gentlemen addressed words of an insulting nature to a brother officer.  As long as he thought you were beneath the rank of gentlemen he did not choose to notice them, but the governor having recognized you as an equal, my friend feels that he can safely demand satisfaction, or an ample apology for your remark.”

“Why,” said Fred, with a soft smile, “this looks to me like a challenge.”

“It is one,” replied the Englishman.

“And I am expected to retract the words which I uttered, or be shot?” asked Fred.

“If you are the gentleman who uttered them, I must reply, yes,” answered the officer.

“Well, upon my word.  I hardly know what I did say,” cried Fred.  “Do you recollect?” he added, appealing to me.

I shook my head, and remained silent.  I was thinking of the danger my friend was in, and wondering how I could get him out of it.