He got trace of Mr. Carleton, too, after a time, at the big hotel, where Carleton had succeeded in buying some provisions. He traced him from there, down through the town, to the wharf. Later, he found a man who had seen such a person come ashore from a skiff, and leave her adrift and run up the shore. And lastly, the station agent had seen a man answering that description take the early morning train out of town. Mr. Carleton had, indeed, vanished—a disappointed, wrathful, frightened man. A strange and most complete disappearance, too, for neither Stoneland nor Southport heard of him more. True, there came a message from the police, a day later, that a man who was much like the missing Mr. Carleton, had had some trouble over a ticket with the conductor of a train entering Boston; but the man had got away from the station, and no arrest had been made. But it was all one to Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, what should become of Mr. Carleton, when they had the _Viking_ back. And there, in the course of the afternoon, when they were preparing to depart, was a canoe to be seen, coming down alongshore. So they sailed up and met it, and had Tom and Bob aboard. And there was Little Tim, whom they had taken with them, to be congratulated. And then, there were the Warren boys in the _Spray_, to be hunted up among the islands, and told the good news. Oh, yes, and there was Captain Sam, roaring like a sea-lion over the good news. And there were the two yachts, the _Viking_ and the _Surprise_, going up the bay together, to meet the _Spray_ wherever they should find her. Then, late that afternoon, as Captain Sam was nearing Grand Island, on his return voyage, he espied in the distance, close to shore, a forlorn figure, rowing wearily in the direction of Southport. “I’m blest if that don’t look like young Harry Brackett,” exclaimed Captain Sam. “It is, as sure as you’re alive. Ahoy, don’t you want a tow, there?” But the boy, turning his head in the direction of the _Nancy Jane_, shook his head mournfully, and resumed his rowing. “Well, you don’t have ter,” was Captain Sam’s comment. Harry Brackett, sore, sleepless, and weary, had his own reasons for not wishing to face the captain. One week later, Jack Harvey, sitting on the step of Rob Dakin’s store, received a letter. He opened and read: “My dear Jack:—I’ve won the lawsuit and you shall have some money as soon as things are settled. I wonder how you have got along this summer. Too bad to cut you off, but I’ll make it up to you by and by. Let me know how much money you need. “Affectionately, “Your father, “William Harvey.” For once in his life, Jack Harvey was prompt with an answer. This is what he wrote: