Groche was still in Coreytown, under treatment by doctors and guard by officers. The event proved that he had not been shamming that night when Lon watched him with suspicious eye. A very sick man, indeed, was Peter for a few days; but now tidings had come that, thanks to a rugged frame and a vigorous constitution, he was beginning to rally, with every prospect that, presently, he would be well enough to stand trial on the very grave charge of arson. Some doubt was expressed, to be sure, of his mental condition; but the chances were strongly in favor of his retirement behind the walls either of prison or asylum. At all events, Plainville heartily endorsed the opinion of Major Bates, and counted itself well rid of its least desirable citizen. The Major, it is to be related, took keen delight in Sam’s version of the happenings in the woods, and learning, incidentally, that the secret of his wounds had become public property--at least, the property of the club--invited the boys to dinner, in order, as he explained, that he might present his side of the case. For the club it was an occasion of impressive state and ceremony, but the Major was a delightful host, quickly put them at their ease, told lively tales of war and peace, and finally made a speech which brought out three rousing cheers for Sam Parker and three times three for the orator. Tom Orkney was at the dinner. The Major invited him, along with the rest and quite as a matter of course. And Tom, though his manner was reserved, didn’t fail to enter into the spirit of the occasion. To tell the truth, his reception, in general, had been beyond his expectations. Had he been older and more experienced, he might better have understood that little heed is given to an old story when a new story is being told. Tom Orkney, runaway, was an old story; Tom Orkney, joint adventurer with the club, was a new story. Moreover, Little Perrine had been singing his praises, and Sam and his friends were losing no opportunity to proclaim his pluck and grit. So, when school opened after the holidays, Orkney, to his bewilderment, found himself enjoying a degree of favor in curious contrast to the chill reception for which he had nerved himself. Lon Gates still limped slightly, but otherwise appeared to be none the worse for his battle with Peter Groche. Lon was not boastful. He pretended to make a joke of his capture of the desperado; and, in private, confided to Sam that he felt a bit like a fellow who had been able to bring in a stolen horse, but hadn’t known enough to lock the stable door before the horse was stolen.