Harry Brackett, terrified, rowed ashore to where Mr. Carleton was standing. He must explain. He had no idea of stealing the lobsters—which was met with derisive laughter from Mr. Carleton, and the assurance that he was a bold young chap. From which effort at dissimulation, Harry Brackett came, at length, to beg and implore Mr. Carleton that he would say nothing about it. Now, if Mr. Carleton had had any notion that young Harry Brackett might at some time be useful to him, he certainly went about the manner of gaining an ascendency over him most admirably. For didn’t Mr. Carleton promise that he would say nothing about the affair? And didn’t he feign to treat it as a huge joke? He certainly did. But how cunningly, also, in all his making light of it, did he convey to young Harry Brackett’s mind the fact that he knew it was a criminal thing; and that it would meet with heavy punishment, if discovered. And how cunningly did he play upon first the one, and then the other idea; the idea of a practical joke, and the idea of the penalty for it, if it should be known; until young Harry Brackett would gladly have promised to do anything in all the world that Mr. Carleton might ask, to buy his silence. “Then you won’t let on about it?” urged Harry Brackett, apprehensively, for the tenth time or more, as he started to row away. “Never a word from me,” said Mr. Carleton. “Ho, you rascal—I’ve been a youngster, too. But you’re taking pretty big chances of getting into trouble. Look out for yourself. Ho! ho!” “I’ll never take another chance like it,” whined Harry Brackett. For the remainder of Mr. Carleton’s stay on the island, there was one more youth that avoided him now, though for a different reason than that of the others. This was young Harry Brackett. He was ashamed to look Mr. Carleton in the face. Perhaps, on the other hand, it was rather Mr. Carleton who avoided meeting the young yachtsman. And perhaps he, too, was ashamed of what he had done. However, this newly developed modesty on Harry Brackett’s part did not prevent Mr. Carleton, driving along the road an afternoon or two later, from overtaking him and insisting that he get in and ride. “Glad to see you,” said Mr. Carleton, as affably as he knew how. “Haven’t seen you around much for a day or two. Lobsters didn’t make you chaps sick, did they? Ha! ha!” Harry Brackett flushed, and felt decidedly uncomfortable. But he tried to laugh it off, and said he was feeling first rate. “Well,” said Mr. Carleton, “you’re all right. I like to see a boy of spirit. I’m glad to have met you. I’m going to leave, to-morrow, by the way.” Harry Brackett wouldn’t, for the world, have said how glad he was to hear of it. On the contrary, he said he was sorry; and added, that his father, the squire, would be sorry, too.