He fed the horses, as he was told. After the crew had breakfasted in the cabin of the boat, the same monotonous round of duty was taken up that had occupied the day before. Rain was still falling, and the cold had increased. The water of the canal was muddy, and the stream that ran along below it was very high. The tow-path was softer and more slippery than it had been the previous day, and walking upon it was more difficult. The boy who drove the weary and wretched horses through the mud and rain was far more tired and miserable than they were. Late in the forenoon the boat reached Ellenville. For more than a mile Captain Bill had apparently been on the lookout for some one. As they passed under the iron bridge and in toward the lock without meeting any one, the captain uttered a sort of grunt of disappointment. Just then, however, a man came down the tow-path, leading a gray horse. The man was short and stout, with legs that were so bowed that it was a marvel that they held him up at all. Captain Bill’s face lighted up as he caught sight of him. He leaped from the boat to the tow-path, and went ahead to meet the stranger. “Well, Callipers,” he inquired, “got a hoss for me?” “You bet,” replied the man, “an’ a powerful good un, too.” Captain Bill went close to the bow-legged man, bent down to him, and said something in an undertone. The man listened and nodded. Then followed a conversation which no one could hear, except the persons engaged in it. It ended with Captain Bill’s counting out some money from a black and greasy leather wallet, and handing the money to Callipers. Then one of the captain’s horses was unfastened, and placed in possession of the bow-legged man. The gray took its harness, and its place at the tow-line. All this time Joe had been busy at the feed-box at the bow of the boat. At this moment he came up and discovered what was going on. The gray horse first attracted his attention. There was something about the animal that reminded him strongly of Old Charlie. He looked again, and more closely. The horse threw up his head and neighed. It was Old Charlie! Joe gave a leap to the side of the boat, another to the tow-path, and in the next instant he was at the horse’s head. “Charlie!” he cried. “Charlie! Why, Old Charlie, is this you?” The beast whinnied, and putting his nose down against Joe’s breast, began to rub him in the old way. Captain Bill and Callipers looked at each other in open-eyed astonishment. “Knows ’im!” exclaimed the bow-legged man. “Seems to,” replied the captain. “Who is ’e?” “Don’t know ’im. He’s a runaway.” The bow-legged man advanced and looked at the boy more closely. “Bless my eyes an’ ears!” he exclaimed, drawing hastily back. He recognized Joe as the boy who had visited the stable the morning on which the horse was stolen. “Good-by, Bill!” he said to the captain. “I’m goin’!” But at that moment Joe, running quickly, intercepted him.