This latter condition expressed by Harvey was, indeed, to prove most annoying. With the dropping of the sun behind the far-distant hills, the wind perceptibly and rapidly diminished. They set their club-topsail to catch the upper airs, but the last hour was sluggish sailing. It was a few minutes to ten o’clock when the _Viking_ rounded the bluff that guards the northeastern entrance to the snug harbour of Southport. “There’s no show for that warm supper to-night, I’m afraid,” said Harvey, as they turned the bluff and stood slowly into the harbour. The immediate answer to this remark was an “Ahoy, there, on board the _Viking_!” from across the water. The next moment, the familiar canoe shot into sight and Tom Harris and Bob White were quickly on deck. “We beat you fellows by a few minutes,” said Tom Harris, laughing at Harvey. “Look out for Jack,” said Henry Burns, with a wink at the other two. “He has been having so much fun that he doesn’t want any more. And, besides, he’s starving—and so am I; and we might eat little boys up if they plague us.” “Why, what’s the matter?” asked Tom, observing that Harvey was half-scowling as he smiled at Henry Burns’s sally. “Oh, we have been entertaining a friend up the bay,” answered Henry Burns, “and he didn’t appreciate what Jack did for him. Seriously now, I don’t blame Jack for being furious.” And Henry Burns gave a graphic account of the adventure. When he had finished, both Tom Harris and Bob White gave vent to whistles of surprise. “Say,” exclaimed Bob White, “you couldn’t guess who that young chap is, if you tried a hundred years.” “Why, do you know him, then?” cried Jack Harvey. “Yes, and you will know him, too, before the summer is over,” replied Bob White. “That’s Harry Brackett, Squire Brackett’s son.” “Didn’t know he had any,” exclaimed Harvey. “Neither did we till this summer,” said Bob White. “He dropped in on us one day, early, and wanted to borrow some money. That was up in Benton. He said he must have it, to get right back to Southport; and Tom’s father let him have a little. But we saw him several days after that driving about the streets with a hired rig. So that’s where the money went, and I think Mr. Harris will never see the money again. He’s been off to school for two years, so he says; but if he has learned anything except how to smoke, he doesn’t show it. “But, never mind that now,” added Bob. “Let’s get the _Viking_ in to anchorage and made snug, for you know there’s something waiting for you over to the camp.” “What! You don’t mean you have kept supper waiting for us all this time?” cried Henry Burns, joyfully. “Oh, but you are a pair of bricks!” exclaimed Harvey, as Bob White nodded an affirmative. “I can smell that fish chowder that Bob makes clear out here.”