George’s unexpected stroke of fortune put new life and energy into him, and he worked to such good purpose that in less than three-quarters of an hour the dinner was ready and waiting.

Neither of them had much to say, each being fully occupied with his own thoughts. George was telling himself how good he was going to be, how hard he was going to study when he was fairly installed at the academy, and had learned how to perform the duties that were required of him, while his companion was looking a little further into the future.

Bob Howard had as good a home as any boy ever had, and, unlike a good many of his age, he knew and fully appreciated the benefits of it; but it was a lonely home in some respects, for he had no mother, and not a playmate within many miles of him. Here was a boy who had saved his life at the imminent risk of his own, who was also motherless, who had no father worth mentioning, and if he found that George, speaking in schoolboy parlance, “wore well”—if, after summering and wintering him, he became satisfied that he was as good a fellow in every respect as he seemed to be—why shouldn’t he take him home with him when they had both completed the course at the academy, and make a brother of him? The house was large enough for them—if it were not, the mountain range around it was—and Bob was sure that his father would give his friend a cordial welcome.

Bob was resolved that he would think the matter over when he could devote more time to it.

“What shall we do now?” said George, breaking in on his reverie. “Dinner is ready, but Dick hasn’t returned.”

“We’ll not waste any time in waiting for him,” replied Bob. “The last time he shot he was so far away that I could hardly hear the report of his gun. Let’s eat our dinner and go back to the bass-hole. Dick won’t come back as long as he can find a squirrel to shoot at, and when he does come he can help himself.”

The boys did not have as good luck that afternoon as they did in the morning, for they were on the ground too early to get the evening fishing. Still, they added a few fine bass to their string; but, about the time the fish began to show a disposition to take the bait promptly, they were obliged to pull up the anchor and start for the cabin.

They found Dick sitting on the bench, picking the bones of a squirrel he had broiled over the coals on a forked stick. He had eighteen others to carry home with him.

Having a long walk before them, he and Bob decided to start for the village at once. They wanted to get through the woods before dark.

“We’ll leave our surplus provisions here, so that it will not be necessary for us to bring a new supply when we come again,” said Dick, as he proceeded to pack his squirrels and some of the fish away in his basket. “Has Bob told you that you are to be janitor at the academy? All right; but remember that you are to be easy on the boys. If we are out after ten o’clock, you are to be at the gate to let us in; and you are not to report us, no matter what we do. We’ll see you on Monday, I suppose, and you must tell us what the sheriff wanted of you.”

George took his friends across the lake in his boat, put them on the road leading to the village, and returned to the cabin, feeling lonely, indeed, but at the same time very much elated and encouraged.

Monday morning came at last, and with it came the deputy sheriff, accompanied by two constables. They were all mounted, and one of the constables led an extra horse, which George soon learned was intended for his own use.

“This is my idea of a hunter’s home,” said Mr. Newton, who seemed to enjoy the view that was spread out before him. “I shouldn’t mind living this way myself, if I could make a support by it.”

“You would find it a dog’s life,” said George. “At least, I have found it so. I didn’t come here from choice, and I am heartily glad that this is my last day here. How is everything in the village?”

“Oh, the excitement is intense, and the fathers of those young rogues are very indignant! I have been called everything but a decent man by them and their friends; but I was justified in arresting them, for Benson and Forbes have made a full confession. Wallace is as defiant as ever, and neither denies nor acknowledges anything. Now, George, do you know where Dungan Brook is?”

George said that he did.

“It’s a wild place, I understand. Have you been there lately?”

“Not since last May, and then I caught the finest string of trout there I ever saw.”

“Well,” continued the officer, “there’s one place in the ravine through which the brook runs, that bears a striking resemblance, in everything except grandeur and extent, to a famous valley somewhere out West, and when some of the academy boys were botanizing there, a few years ago, they named it the Little Yosemite.”

“I know right where it is,” said George.

“Then take us there by the quickest and shortest route.”

George closed the door of the cabin, mounted the horse that had been provided for him, and led the way around the head of the lake.

The shortest route to the place they wanted to find was a long one, and a rough one too; and, for almost the entire distance, it led through a thick wood, where every step of the way was obstructed by bushes and fallen logs, which were piled upon and across one another in every conceivable shape.

After two hours of slow and laborious riding, George dismounted, pushed aside the bushes, and gave his companions their first view of the Little Yosemite. Dungan Brook they could not see. It was so far below them that the ripple of its waters could be but faintly heard.

“As long as I have lived in this county I never knew before that it could boast of scenery like this,” said the sheriff, as he drew back from the edge of the gulf, after trying in vain to see the bottom of it. “How are we going to get down there?”

“Hitch your horses, and I will see if I can find the path I cut the last time I was here,” said George. “Here it is now, and, I declare, it looks as though it had been used,” he added, in a tone of surprise.

The officers smiled, but said nothing. They followed their guide, as he scrambled down the bluff, and in a few minutes more they were standing beside the brook.

“There’s Le Capitan,” said George, pointing to a huge rock on the other side of the stream, which rose to the height of two hundred feet without a single break or crevice.

“I recognize the captain from the description I have received of him,” said the sheriff, as he drew a note-book from his pocket, and consulted a diagram that he or somebody else had drawn on one of the pages. “He is in a bad business for he is standing guard over stolen property.”

The officer led the way across the brook, and around the base of the rock, to a thick cluster of bushes, in front of which he stopped long enough to light a dark lantern he had brought with him. Then he dived into the bushes, and when George and the constables followed him they could not find him.

He had disappeared in a small opening in the ground, which seemed to run back under the rock. Presently a bundle of something came sailing out, then another and another, until there was a small cartload of them piled up before the opening.

The constables examined them as fast as they came out, and found that they contained a quantity of ready-made clothing, underwear of all kinds, boxes of cigars, tobacco, jewelry, jack-knives, pistols, cutlery, buffalo robes, blankets, cloaks, and a lot of other articles too numerous to mention.

The constables opened their eyes in surprise when the sheriff came out, and told them that these were not half the goods that had been stolen. The rest had been sold to enable the thieves to raise money enough for their Western trip.

“What were they going to do out West?” asked George.

“What do people of this stamp generally do out there?” asked the constable, in reply. “Benson and Forbes would have died of home-sickness, and Wallace would have been in the hands of a vigilance committee in less than a week. Now let’s go up to headquarters, and see what we shall find there.”

After taking another look at his diagram, the sheriff moved up the ravine, closely examining the base of the bluff as he went, and when he stopped, it was in front of a little pole cabin, which was so effectually concealed by the thick shrubbery and trees that surrounded it that one might have passed within five feet of it without knowing that there was any cabin there. Having opened the door, which was formed of half a dozen saplings that fitted loosely into holes in the ground, the sheriff went in and flashed his lantern around.

“This is where they used to come to hold their revels and plan their expeditions,” said he.

Wallace and his two friends had passed the preceding Saturday there, perfecting their scheme for driving George Edwards away from the lake, and securing possession of Mr. Stebbins’ money, and everything in the cabin was just as they had left it.

There were the dishes from which they had eaten their dinner, the hammocks in which they had swung while talking over their plans, and the books and papers that had helped them while away their leisure time were scattered about.

The officer picked up one of the books, and turning to the title-page, read the words, “The Life of Jesse James.” Throwing it aside with an exclamation of disgust, he picked up another, which was entitled, “Wild Harry, the Black Valley Demon.”

“Here is the secret of the whole matter, and I can now understand some things that I couldn’t see through before,” said the officer. “Those foolish boys have poisoned their minds by reading dime novels, and are anxious to imitate the heroes of them. I see that Wallace’s name is on some, and that Forbes and Benson own the others. Pick them up and be careful of them, for they will do for evidence.”

George accompanied the officers to the village, not forgetting to take his clothes with him, as Bob had directed, appeared as one of the witnesses at the preliminary examination which was held that afternoon, and that night he slept at the academy, so that he could be ready to assume his duties the next morning.

The arrest and trial of the guilty boys created a greater sensation than the quiet little village of Montford had ever known before.

Their fathers exerted themselves to the utmost in their behalf; but their efforts to clear them were entirely unsuccessful, and the most they could do was to secure a mitigation of the punishment they so richly deserved.

As soon as the excitement was over, our three friends settled down to business, working hard for five days in the week, and spending every pleasant Saturday at the lake.

George Edwards proved to be an apt pupil, and very soon became one of the most popular students at the academy. At first, the boys played tricks upon him, in spite of all his caution; but George submitted so good-naturedly, and did his full duty in so manly a way, that they finally left off bothering him.

At the end of his second school year, Bob was permitted to take up his abode at a private house in the village, and, at his earnest solicitation, George consented to room with him.

They studied, worked, and played together, and it finally came to be understood between them, that, if they could possibly prevent it, they were not to allow themselves to be separated as long as they lived.

George did not know what he was bringing upon himself by consenting to this arrangement.

Having described, as rapidly as we could, the various incidents that had operated to bring these two boys together, let us go back to where we first found them—to the day on which that telegram arrived from Arizona.

It was the last day they ever expected to spend in Montford, and it had been big with events. They had passed their examination with flying colors, the base-ball club to which they belonged had established its claim to the championship, after a hotly-contested game, and the two friends—there were only two of them now, for Dick Langdon had completed the course a year before—were in high spirits.

Having exchanged their uniforms for their ordinary clothes, and taken a run around the bases for the last time, they set out for their boarding-house.