“Why didn’t you tell me about it before?” cried Squire Brackett, shaking his son vigorously. “Why, how did I know anything about it?” whined Harry Brackett. “How did I know you wanted to see him before he went? You’re always blaming me for things. I’m not to blame.” On second thought, Squire Brackett came to the same conclusion. Still, it being his habit of mind invariably to blame somebody else for his own misfortunes, he had to vent his irritation on his son. “Well, clear out of here!” he cried. “You never know anything except at the wrong time.” Harry Brackett disappeared. One would have thought that the squire had lost his dearest friend on earth, in the departure of Mr. Carleton, judging by the deep and profound melancholy that fell upon him, for a fortnight. Or, on the other hand, one might have thought that Mr. Carleton was his bitterest foe, if any one had seen him rage and fume in secret, whenever he thought of Mr. Carleton or pronounced his name. Mrs. Brackett overheard him mutter, on one or two occasions, “Fifteen hundred dollars tied up in an island!” But, when she inquired what he meant, she received a reply that was both incommunicative and not wholly courteous. As for Billy Cook, the squire wouldn’t speak to him, when next they met—nor for half the summer. “Never mind,” said Uncle Billy to himself, “I’ll buy a new pair of Sunday boots, and I’ll pay as much as two dollars and a half for ’em.” CHAPTER XVI. SEARCHING THE VIKING “Where are you fellows going?” asked George Warren, from a comfortable seat on the Warren veranda, of Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, as they were passing the cottage of an afternoon. The two yachtsmen were carrying, between them, a big basket of clams, which they had just dug on the flats at the head of the cove. “Going fishing, down the shore a way,” replied Henry Burns. “We’ve just got the bait. We have to keep our lobsters fat and contented, you know, so they’ll look pleasant when they get to market.” “Don’t you think you humour them too much?” asked George Warren, quizzically. “You’ll spoil them with overfeeding, the way Colonel Witham did his boarders.” “No, we feed them the same way he did,” answered Henry Burns; “give them lots of fish, because they are cheap. And we hope they’ll get tired of fish, by and by, the way Witham’s boarders used to, and not eat so much. Then we’ll take it easy. Come on, though, and help us catch some. We’ve got bait enough for the whole crowd.” “All right,” responded George. “You go ahead, and we’ll take our boat and come out and join you.”