The Boston and Portland papers of the next morning contained full accounts of the discovery of the rendezvous of a gang of robbers whose operations had been extensive in and near Boston, together with the arrest of their chief.

In the account full credit was given to our young hero, Grit, for his agency in the affair, and it was announced that the prize offered would be divided between Grit and the famous detective, Benjamin Baker.

It may readily be supposed that this account created great excitement in Chester. Most of the villagers were heartily pleased by the good fortune and sudden renown of the young boatman; but there was at least one household to which the news brought no satisfaction. This was the home of Phil Courtney.

"What a fuss the papers make about that boy!" exclaimed Phil, in disgust. "I suppose he will put on no end of airs when he gets home."

"Very likely," said Mr. Courtney. "He seems to have had good luck, that's all."

"It's pretty good luck to get a thousand dollars," said Phil enviously. "Papa, will you do me a favor?"

"What is it?"

"Can't you put a thousand dollars in the bank for me, so that the boatman can't crow over me?"

"Money is very scarce with me just now, Philip," said his father. "It will do just as well to tell him you have a thousand dollars in my hands."

"I would rather have it in a bank," said Philip.

"Then you'll have to wait till it is convenient for me," said his father shortly.

It was true that money was scarce with Mr. Courtney. I have already stated that he had been speculating in Wall Street heavily, and with by no means unvarying success. In fact, the same evening he received a letter from his brother, stating that the market was so heavily against him that he must at once forward five thousand dollars to protect his margin, or the stocks carried on his account must be sold.

As Mr. Courtney was unable to meet this demand, the stocks were sold, involving a loss of ten thousand dollars.

This, in addition to previous losses, so far crippled Mr. Courtney that he was compelled materially to change his way of living, and Phil had to come down in the social scale, much to his mortification.

But the star of the young boatman was in the ascendant.

On his return to Pine Point he found Mr. Jackson, the New York broker, about to leave the hotel for a return to the city. He congratulated Grit on his success as an amateur detective, and then asked:

"What are your plans, Grit? Probably you won't care to remain a boatman?"

"No, sir; I have decided to give up that business, at any rate."

"Have you anything in view?"

"I thought I might get a situation of some kind in Boston. The prize-money will keep us going till I can earn a good salary."

"Will your mother move from Pine Point?"

"Yes, sir; she would be lonely here without me."

"I have an amendment to offer to your plans, Grit."

"What is that, sir?"

"Come to New York instead of Boston."

"I have no objection, sir, if there is any opening there for me."

"There is, and in my office. Do you think you would like to enter my office?"

"I should like it very much," said Grit eagerly.

"Then I will engage you at a salary of twelve dollars per week—for the first year."

"Twelve dollars!" exclaimed Grit, overwhelmed. "I had no idea a green hand could get such pay."

"Nor can they," answered Mr. Jackson, smiling; "but you remember that there is an unsettled account between us. I have not forgotten that you saved the life of my boy."

"I don't want any reward for that, sir."

"I appreciate your delicacy, but I shall feel better satisfied to recognize it in my own way. I have another proposal to make to you. It is this: Place in my hands as much of your thousand dollars as you can spare, and I will invest it carefully for your advantage in stock operations, and hope materially to increase it."

"I shall be delighted if you will do so, Mr. Jackson, and think myself very fortunate that you take this trouble for me."

"Now, how soon can you go to New York?"

"When you think best, sir?"

"I advise you to go on with me, and select a home for your mother. Then you can come back for her, and settle yourself down to work."

* * * * * * * *

A year later, in a pleasant cottage on Staten Island, Grit and his mother sat in a neatly furnished sitting-room. Our young hero was taller, as befitted his increased age, but there was the same pleasant, frank expression which had characterized him as a boy.

"Mother," said he, "I have some news for you."

"What is it, Grit?"

"Mr. Jackson has raised my pay to twenty dollars a week."

"That is excellent news, Grit."

"He has besides rendered an account of the eight hundred dollars he took from me to operate with. How much do you think it amounts to now?"

"Perhaps a thousand."

"Between four and five thousand!" answered Grit, in exultation.

"How can that be possible?" exclaimed Mrs. Morris, in astonishment.

"He used it as a margin to buy stocks which advanced greatly in a short time. This being repeated once or twice, has made me almost rich."

"I can hardly believe it, Grit. It is too good to be true."

"But it is true, mother. Now we can change our mode of living."

"Wait till you are worth ten thousand dollars, Grit—then I will consent. But, I, too, have some news for you."

"What is it?"

"I had a letter from Chester to-day. Our old neighbor, Mr. Courtney, has lost everything—or almost everything—and has been compelled to accept the post of bank messenger, at a salary of fifty dollars per month."

"That is indeed a change," said Grit. "What will Phil do?"

"He has gone into a store in Chester, on a salary of three dollars a week."

"Poor fellow!" said Grit. "I pity him. It must be hard for a boy with his high notions to come down in the world so. I would rather begin small and rise, than be reared in affluence only to sink into poverty afterward."

It was quite true. The result of his rash speculations was to reduce Mr. Courtney to poverty, and make him for the balance of his life a soured, discontented man.

As for Phil, he is still young, and adversity may teach him a valuable lesson. Still, I hardly think he will ever look with satisfaction upon the growing success and prosperity of the young boatman.

I must note another change. It will be observed that I have referred to Grit's mother as Mrs. Morris. Mr. Brandon was accidentally drowned in Portland Harbor, having undertaken, while under the influence of liquor, to row to Peake's Island, some two miles distant. His wife and Grit were shocked by his sudden death, but they could hardly be expected to mourn for him. His widow resumed the name of her former husband, and could now lay aside all anxiety as to the quiet tenor of her life being broken in upon by her ill-chosen second husband.

It looks as if Grit's prosperity had come to stay. I am privately informed that Mr. Jackson intends next year to make him junior partner, and this will give him a high position in business circles. I am sure my young readers will feel that his prosperity has been well earned, and will rejoice heartily in the brilliant success of the young boatman of Pine Point.

THE END.