“Yes, but the rest of it is the oddest part of it,” responded Henry Burns. “There was an old lady named Mrs. Newcome, whose life we saved at the fire. She was furious at the squire and Witham for blaming us, and thankful enough when Jack got us out of it. “Now, when Chambers was tried, he was so bitter against the other two who had got him into trouble, he confessed the yacht did not belong to any one of them. So the yacht was taken over by the sheriff, and advertisements were sent out all around to try to find the rightful owner. But they never did find him, and finally the yacht was condemned and put up for sale. There is where old Mrs. Newcome came in. She has no end of money, and no one to spend it on except herself and a cat. The yacht went cheap, and what did she do but buy it in and give it to us.” Henry Burns paused, and there was silence for a few moments aboard the _Viking_. The stranger smoked without speaking, apparently lost in his own thoughts. “That’s all of the yarn,” said Henry Burns, at length. The man started to his feet, tossed his cigar away, and walked forward, with his hands in his pockets. “That’s one of the oddest stories I ever heard,” he said. “You’re lucky chaps, aren’t you? Sounds like some novels I’ve read. By the way, isn’t that Burton’s Landing just ahead there?” He seemed eager to get ashore. “Yes, that is the Landing,” answered Harvey. A few moments more and they were up to it, and the stranger was stepping ashore upon the pier. “Well,” he said, shaking hands with them again, “I’m much obliged to both of you—really more than I can begin to tell you. Perhaps I can return the favour some day. My name is Charles Carleton. Live around at hotels pretty much, but spend most of my time in Boston. Hope I meet you again some day. Perhaps I may be down this way later, down the bay somewhere, if I like the looks of it, and the hotels. Good day.” “Good day; you’re very welcome,” called out Henry Burns and Jack Harvey. Again the yacht swung out into the river, gathering headway quickly and skimming along, heeling very gently. The strange man stood watching her from the pier. “No,” he said, softly, to himself, “I never saw but one boat just like her before. But who would have thought I should run across them the first thing? That was a stroke of luck.” CHAPTER II. THE COLLISION “Pleasant sort of a man, wasn’t he?” commented Harvey, as the _Viking_ left the pier astern, and the stranger could be seen walking briskly up the road toward the town. “Why, yes, he was, in a way,” responded Henry Burns. “Most persons manage to make themselves agreeable while one is doing them a favour. Really, though, he isn’t one of the open, hearty kind, though he did try to be pleasant. I don’t know why I think so, but he seemed sort of half-concealed behind that big moustache.” Harvey laughed. “That’s a funny notion,” he said.