The missionaries, however, gave their consent, and Captain Gooding, hoisting sail in the staunch centre-boarder, set sail for Poseat, where he safely arrived, without unnecessary delay.  He found the first mate and his sailors well and in high spirits, though they were beginning to wonder whether their captain, like the friends of Irons, had not forgotten, and concluded to leave them to themselves.

No objection was offered to their departure, and bidding an affectionate good-by to the Englishman, who had proven the best kind of a friend, they returned to the missionary island.  Two months later the missionary vessel, the Morning Star, arrived, and carried them all to Honolulu, which was reached in November.  Thence Captain Gooding and a part of the crew were brought by the steamer Australia to San Francisco, from which point the captain made his way to his home in Yarmouth, where his family and friends welcomed him back as one risen from the dead, for they had long given up hope of ever seeing him again.

AN UNPLEASANT COMPANION.

“Say, Jack, the shellbarks are droppin’ thick down in Big Woods.  What a chance for a fellow to lay up a bushel or two before the crowd gets down there in the morning.”

“Wouldn’t it, though, Ned!” I replied wistfully, for if there was anything I had a fondness for, it was shellbarks.

We were trudging home to our dinner, for Ned and I lived close to the schoolhouse, much to the envy of some less fortunate pupils who brought their noonday meal with them in tin pails.  It was a late September Friday, and a soft golden haze lay on hillside and woodland, and the quail were whistling in the furrows; and, as Ned spoke, I could see in my mind’s eye just how Big Woods would look that afternoon with the soft sunlight slanting through the trees, and glimmering on the quiet waters of the creek.

“Well, Jack, will you go?” said Ned abruptly.

“You mean will I play truant?” I asked, a little startled.

“Yes; there’s no danger, Jack; we’ll tell the teacher we had to stay home to cut corn.”

At first, I resisted Ned’s appeal.  I had played truant once before, a long time ago, and the memory of the punishment that I received in the woodshed at home was still strongly impressed on my memory.

But this, I thought, was an exceptional case, I badly wanted a bushel or two of shellbarks, and I knew full well that, unless they were gathered that afternoon, they wouldn’t be gathered at all; for bright and early the next morning all the boys in the neighborhood would be down in Big Woods, armed with clubs and baskets and sacks, and even the squirrels would stand a poor show after that invasion.

In our selfishness, we never thought that other people might have a fondness for shellbarks as well as ourselves.  So, after a little more pleading on Ned’s part, I gave in, and we agreed to meet down at the foot of our orchard, as soon as dinner was over, for Ned lived right across, on the next farm.  In a corner of the barn, I found my old chestnut club, a hickory stave, well coiled with lead at the top.  Shoving this under my jacket, so no prying eyes could see it, I joined Ned at the meeting-place, and off we went in high spirits for the Yellow-breeches.