But the scuttled brigantine had disappeared. Mary Matilda saw it was a mirage. Meanwhile the musquashes gained on her. The beechnuts had whetted their appetite. It seemed as if they were sure of their prey. But all at once they stopped, and Mary Matilda stopped, too. They were confronted by a haggard but manly form. It was the mysterious young stranger, and he had a saw which Eddie Martin had lent him. His aspect was so terrible that the musquashes turned to flee, but they were too late. The mysterious stranger laid about him so vigorously with his saw that the musquashes soon were in bits. Here was a tail, there a leg; here an ear, there a nose--oh, it was a rare potpourri, I can tell you! Finally the musquashes all were dead. "To whom am I indebted for my salvation?" inquired Mary Matilda, blushing deeply. "Alas, I do not know," replied the wan stranger. "I am called Juan, but my lineage is enveloped in gloom." At once Mary Matilda suspected he was her brother's missing friend, and this suspicion was confirmed by the lavender trousers he wore. She questioned him closely, and he told her all. Bessie heard all he said, and she could tell you more particularly than I can about it. I only know that Juan confessed that, having tasted of Mary Matilda's cake, he fell deeply in love with her and had come all this distance to ask her to be his, indissolubly. "Still," said he, sadly, "'tis too much to ask you to link your destiny with one whose lineage is not known." By this time they had reached the back-yard gate. Eddie Martin was sitting on the wood-pile talking with a weird old woman. The weird old woman scrutinized Mary Matilda closely. "Do you know me?" she asked. "No," said Mary Matilda. "I have been serving ten years for a mild indiscretion," said the old woman, sadly. "I am the gypsy who told your fortune many years ago." Then the old gypsy's keen eyes fell on Juan, the stranger. She gave a fierce cry. "I have seen that face before!" she cried, trembling with emotion. "When I knew it, it was a baby face; but the spectacles are still the same!" [Illustration: BROTHER SLOSSON AND HIS OTHER FRIEND EN ROUTE TO THE WEDDING.] Juan also quivered with emotion. "Have you a thistle mark on your left arm?" demanded the old gypsy, fiercely. "Yes," he answered, hoarsely; and pulling up the sleeve of his linen ulster he exposed the beautiful emblem on his emaciated arm. "It is as I suspected!" cried the old gypsy. "You are the Prince of Lochdougal, heir presumptive to the estates and titles of the Stuarts." And with these words the old gypsy swooned in Eddie Martin's arms.