[Illustration:  Well!  Well!  Well!]

It was ten o’clock when we saw the lights of the town.

“Here we are,” said Jack, “and I vote we’ve had a good time, and that we forgive Old Blacky his temper, and old Browny and Snoozer their sleepiness, and Ollie his questions, and the rancher his general incompetence.”

“And the cook his pancakes!” cried Ollie.  We stopped a little way in front of Squire Poinsett’s grocery, and Jack picked up the big revolver and fired the six shots into the air.  The pony had come alongside the wagon, and Snoozer had his head over the dash-board.  Half a dozen people came running out, including Grandpa Oldberry, wearing red yarn mittens and carrying a lantern.  He held up the light and looked at us.

“Well, I vum,” he exclaimed, “if it ain’t them three pesky scallawags back safe and sound!  I’ve said all along that varmints would get ye sure, and we’d never see hide nor hair of ye again!  Well, well, well!”

It was clear that Grandpa was just a little disappointed to see that his predictions hadn’t been fulfilled.

So the voyage of the good schooner Rattletrap was ended.  It had been over a thousand miles in length, and had lasted for more than two months.