Johnny Kent had agreed that he must be harbored in the cottage for the present. Their surmise that he was a seafarer made it seem a duty to befriend him by all means in their power. To spread the tidings in the village that the pyromaniac had been caught would arouse a storm of anger and resentment. Amid much clamor and disorder he would be handcuffed and tied with ropes and triumphantly lugged to the county jail. The farmers were in no mood to condone his misdeeds on the score of mental irresponsibility. On the other hand, kindly treatment and association with those accustomed to follow the sea might awaken his dormant intelligence and prompt him to reveal something of his shrouded history. “It’s an awkward proposition,” sighed Johnny Kent, “but we’ll have to work it out somehow. Of course I’m sorry for the poor lunatic that has been man-handled so abominably, and so long as we don’t give him matches to play with I guess he’s safe to have around. But how can I keep him hid from my neighbors? They’re as gossipy and curious as a hogshead of cats.” “I mean to find out who branded him and why,” was the vehement assertion of Captain O’Shea. Shortly after this the stalwart waif in the wood-shed awakened and his captors were pleased to note that he was still tractable. Indeed, he greeted them with his confiding, good-natured grin and sat pulling on his shoes. To their words of greeting, however, he made no reply. Apparently the plaintive request for a chew of tobacco had been the end of his conversation. “He used up all the language in his system,” commented O’Shea. “Maybe he will not burst into speech again unless I hit him another crack over the ear.” Johnny Kent filled a tub with water and indicated the clean clothes which he had left on the chair. The derelict nodded gratefully and the others withdrew. “It wouldn’t do to trust him with a razor, Cap’n Mike,” said the engineer. “Pooh! Fetch me the tackle and I will shave him meself. It will make him look saner anyhow and I want to see what he is like.” The guest seemed delighted with this thoughtful attention and submitted to a dose of lather with all the good grace in the world. Bathed, shaved, clad in one of Johnny Kent’s white suits, he was astonishingly transformed. A strapping big man he was, and he held himself with the easy poise of one whose muscles had been trained by hard work on rolling decks. Strolling into the kitchen, he passed through it and entered the other rooms, his guardians following to see what he might do.