“He ought to have fifty dollars for the boat, for it was worth it,” said the sailor bluntly. “No, my price was only fifteen dollars, and I would not take that from him were it not for my mother’s being ill,” said Mark Merrill. The amount was paid by merchant Clemmons, and Mark Merrill hastened from the court room, accompanied by his newly-made friend, Jack Judson, sailor. CHAPTER IV. THE DWELLERS IN “SPOOK HALL.” The youth, accompanied by Jack Judson, the sailor, walked hastily up the main street of the little town, until he came to a fine residence, before which hung a sign bearing the legend: “DR. STONE’S OFFICE.” The physician had just returned home, and coming by the court room had heard the story of the affray, and from one who had sided with the sailor lad in the affair. He heard Mark’s story of his mother’s illness, and at once said he would drive down that evening, and received his fee in advance, which he made exceedingly modest. With a happy heart the lad then went to a store and made a few purchases, after which he said: “Now, sir, I must take time to go and thank that pretty young girl for her kindness.” “Well, I just think so, lad, for she’s one among a thousand,” answered Jack Judson, and the two went to “The Anchorage” and asked to see Miss Virgene Rich. But that young lady saw them coming, suspected their errand, and ran off to the garret and hid, so they were told that she must have gone out. “That’s too bad, lad; but you’ll find her in port some time; but, see here, it’s blowing a gale, and you cannot start home now.” “Oh, yes, sir; for it would worry my mother more for me not to go.” “Go by land?” “It’s a walk of fifteen miles, and only a sail of twelve, while the wind is fair for me.” “If my craft was not going out in the morning I’d go with you, for you are going to have it rough, lad.” “I don’t mind that, sir, for my craft is a surf-skiff, and I know how to handle her.” “I saw that as you came in, my boy; but if you must go I won’t detain you, so good-by, and don’t you forget that Jack Judson is your friend.” “I’ll remember you, sir, you may be sure,” was the reply, and five minutes after the surf-skiff cast off and started upon her really perilous voyage. The sailor watched her departure, as many others did, and shook his head ominously, while Virgene Rich, having returned to her room, stood in the window, and her innocent young face wore an anxious look as she saw the little craft driving swiftly into the heavy seas on her dangerous run. In half an hour the surf-skiff was out of sight to the watchers, and soon after rounded a point of land where it felt the full force of the winds and waves. But Mark Merrill showed his claim to the title he had won as the boy pilot of the coast, and though the shadows of night fell upon the waters, seemed to instinctively know his way over the tempestuous sea. At length a light gleamed from a cliff far ahead, and the young sailor said aloud: