Amos Cary and Jimmy Starkweather lay on the warm sand in the narrow shadow cast by a fishing dory pulled up on the beach. No chief returning from far-off islands could have been more a hero than was Amos among the boys and girls of the settlement. They followed him about, and listened eagerly to all that he had to tell them of the Indians. Then, too, he was to go in the “Sea Gull” with Captain Nash, the swiftest schooner and the smartest captain sailing out of the harbor, and Jimmie Starkweather felt that Amos was having greater good fortune than any boy could hope for.

“Maybe the ‘Sea Gull’ can’t get out of port,” said Jimmie, digging his bare toes in the soft sand. “The English ships keep a sharp outlook for a schooner loaded down with salt fish. I’ll bet Captain Nash won’t get beyond Chatham.”

“Pooh!” responded Amos scornfully. “We can sail right away from their old tubs. But ’twill be great if they do follow us.”

“’Twould be just your good fortune,” said Jimmie. “I do wish my father would let me go with you, Amos. Who knows what adventures you may have!”

For a few moments the two boys did not speak; they lay looking out over the beautiful harbor, and their minds were full of vague hopes of adventure. Jimmie was the first to break the silence.

“You won’t see Shining Fish again, will you, Amos?”

“No; did I show you what he gave me?” And Amos pulled out a stout deerskin thong from inside his flannel blouse. The claw of a bird was fastened to the thong. “See! It’s a hawk’s claw,” exclaimed Amos; “and as long as I wear it no enemy can touch me. I gave Shining Fish my jack-knife,” continued Amos. “You’d like him, Jimmie; he knew stories about chiefs and warriors, and he had killed a fox with his bow and arrow. He told me about a chief of their tribe who lived long ago and was the strongest man that ever lived. He used to go on long journeys, way beyond Cape Cod, with his band of warriors, and once he met an unfriendly tribe, and they laughed when the braves told how strong their chief was. ‘Can he conquer a wild bull?’ one of them asked, and the brave answered, ’Aye, or two wild bulls.’

“So the unfriendly Indians laughed louder, and were glad, for they thought they could destroy the chief even without a battle. Well, they arranged that this brave chief was to go alone into a fenced-in place and meet two wild bulls, and if he conquered them the unfriendly tribe would own him the strongest chief in the world, and would be subject to him. It was great, Jimmie, to hear Shining Fish tell it. He said the great chief marched into the place where the bulls were, and they came dashing toward him, and their hoofs rang upon the ground, and their nostrils sent out sheets of flame, but the chief never flinched a step, and the bulls stopped short and trembled. Then the chief sprang upon the nearest, and seized him by the horns, and they wrestled until the bull fell to its knees tired out. Then he grabbed at the other, and threw it, and all the Indians began to wonder how any chief could be so strong.”

“S’pose it’s true?” questioned Jimmie.

“Sure!” answered Amos. “What’s Captain Stoddard doing to his boat?” he continued. Captain Enos was evidently not bound out on a fishing trip, for he was making his boat as tidy as possible.

“He’s going to sail over to Brewster to fetch Anne back,” answered Jimmie.

“But Anne is going to Boston with Rose Freeman,” said Amos.

Jimmie shook his head. “No, the Freemans won’t take her because she ran away,” he explained, and looked up in amazement, for Amos had sprung to his feet and was racing along the beach toward Captain Stoddard’s boat as fast as his feet would carry him.

Jimmie laughed. “I’ll bet Amos wants to go to Brewster,” he decided.

Amos did not want to go to Brewster. But he had instantly resolved that Anne must not be stopped from going to Boston. Even as he ran he could see that there was no time to spare in reaching Captain Enos, for he was already pushing off from shore.

“Captain Enos! Captain Enos!” he called frantically, and the captain looked toward him. “Wait a minute! wait!” yelled the boy, and the captain waited, saying good-humoredly:

“Never saw such a boy as that one. He can’t bear to see a boat put off unless he’s in it.”

“Captain Enos, you mustn’t bring Anne back,” said Amos as he ran out into the shallow water and grasped the side of the boat. “It wouldn’t be fair; it wasn’t her fault,” he added.

“Whose fault was it?” asked the captain.

“Wait!” commanded Amos, remembering his promise to his sister. “Wait just ten minutes, Captain Enos, before you start. I’ll be back,” and away went Amos up the beach and along the sandy path to the house.

“Amos is going to come out first rate, I can see that plain enough,” said Captain Enos, watching the boy’s flying figure, and he was not surprised when he saw Amos coming back with Amanda held fast by the hand.

The boy and girl stopped at the edge of the water.

“Tell him, Amanda,” commanded Amos.

“It’s my fault,” whimpered Amanda. “I got my mother to tell Mrs. Stoddard that Anne slapped me and ran off with the luncheon. And she didn’t. I slapped her.”

“Clear as mud,” muttered the captain; then in a louder tone, “Amos, you’re going to make a good American sailor, and we’re all going to be proud of you. And I guess Amanda’s going to do better after this,” and he pushed off from shore.

“But you won’t go to Brewster now!” called both the children.

“I’ll have to. Must go and tell the Freemans that we’re willing for Anne to go to Boston, and to tell Anne that her Aunt Martha knows the truth. You just run up and tell Mrs. Stoddard all about it, Amanda,” he answered; and, having sent his boat into deep water, the captain drew in his oars and began hoisting the big mainsail.

For a few moments the boy and girl stood watching him. Then, with a long sigh, Amanda turned to go toward the Stoddard house. Amos began to feel a little sorry for her.

“Say, Amanda, I’ll go tell her,” he called.

“You mind your own business, Amos Cary,” and Amanda turned toward him angrily. “I’ll tell Mrs. Stoddard myself, and then I’ll go home and tell my mother. I’ll tell everybody, and when everybody hates and despises me I reckon you’ll be satisfied,” and without waiting for any response she went on up the path.

Amos turned and went back to the shade of the boat, but Jimmie Starkweather was no longer there. He wished more than ever that he was back with Shining Fish. Then he remembered that in another week he would be on board the “Sea Gull.” He watched Captain Stoddard’s sloop until it was only a white blur against the distant shore, and then went up the beach toward home.

Captain Enos had a favoring wind and a light heart, for he was glad to know that their little maid had not been to blame. “She ran away because she had not been fairly treated. ’Tis what older people sometimes do,” he said to himself. “’Twas the very reason that sent our fathers out of England to America. I’ll not fetch Anne back, for she called to me from the window and would have told me all the story had I been willing to listen,” and then because his mind was at ease the captain began to sing an old song that he had learned as a boy. He had a musical voice, and the words drifted back pleasantly:

In Brewster time was going very smoothly with Anne. The Freemans were kind and pleasant people, and the big house was filled with many things of interest to a little girl. First of all there was black Hepsibah, a black woman whom Captain Freeman had brought, with her brother Josephus, from Cuba when they were small children. They had grown up in the Freeman household, and were valued friends and servants. Anne liked to hear Hepsibah laugh, and the negro woman’s skirts were as stiffly starched as those of Mrs. Freeman herself, who had taught Hepsibah, and trained her to become an excellent housekeeper.

On the high mantelpiece in the dining-room were great branches of white coral, brought from the South Seas; on each side of the front door were huge pink shells. And in the funny little corner cupboard were delicately tinted pink cups and saucers, and the mahogany table was always set with a tall shining silver teapot, and a little fat pitcher and bowls of silver, and the plates were covered with red flowers and figures of queer people with sunshades. Rose told her that these plates came all the way from China, a country on the other side of the earth.

“When does your father say we shall start for Boston?” Anne asked, as the two girls walked down the shady pleasant street that led to the wharves. Anne was not a dull child, and she noticed that no word had been said of Boston, and began to wonder if Mr. Freeman blamed her for running away. “Perhaps your father thinks I am a wicked girl to have run away,” she added before Rose could answer.

“Oh, Anne, no indeed; nobody would think you wicked,” Rose answered promptly. “But father sent a letter to Captain Enos by Amos, and he expects that the captain will get word to us to-day or to-morrow——”

“To say whether I may go or not?” interrupted Anne. “Oh, Rose!” and there was a pleading note in the little girl’s voice, “I do want to go so much, and I do wonder and wonder why Amanda should have slapped me, and why Aunt Martha should have punished me. I do wish I could hear Aunt Martha say again that I was a good child, as she used often to do.”

Rose clasped the little girl’s hand affectionately. “I believe that Amanda was jealous because you were to have this visit,” said Rose, “and who knows, perhaps by this time she is as sorry as can be, and has told Mrs. Stoddard all about it. Perhaps word may come this very night that your Aunt Martha thinks you are a good child, and forgives you for running away.”

As the girls walked along they met a party of men carrying rifles, and hurrying toward Brewster Common.

“They are going to the training field,” explained Rose, at Anne’s surprised exclamation, “and may have to march to Boston to-morrow. Father is anxious to get home.”

The wharves at Brewster were much larger and better cared for than the Province Town landing places; but there were few boats to be seen. Far out a sloop, coming briskly on before a favoring wind, attracted the girls’ attention.

“Rose, that’s the ‘Morning Star,’ Uncle Enos’s sloop. I know it is,” declared Anne; “and he will never let any one else sail her, so it’s Uncle Enos! Let’s hurry! He’s coming straight for this very wharf.”

The big sloop swung round, the mainsail came rattling down, and Captain Enos ran his craft skilfully up beside the long wharf just as Anne, closely followed by Rose, came running down the pier.

“Uncle Enos! Uncle Enos!” exclaimed Anne joyfully. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” and she clasped both hands around his brawny arm as he stepped on the wharf. “And here is Rose,” she continued as the elder girl stepped forward to speak to the captain.

“Growing more like a rose every day,” declared Captain Enos, as he shook hands with Rose. “And here is our little maid all ready to start on the great journey, eh?” and he looked kindly down into Anne’s smiling face. “And what would you girls say if I told you that I had sailed over here to take Anne back to Province Town?”

“Oh, Uncle Enos!”

“Oh, Captain Stoddard!” exclaimed the girls fearfully.

“Wouldn’t like it, eh? Well,” said the captain, “then we won’t have it that way, and Anne may go with you.”

“Oh, Uncle Enos!”

“Oh, Captain Stoddard!” The exclamations were the same, but the words were in such joyous tones that Captain Enos began to laugh heartily, as did Rose and Anne, so that it was a very merry party that went gaily up the street toward Mr. Freeman’s house, where Captain Enos was warmly welcomed.

After supper he and Anne had a long talk together about Amanda and Amos. “Amanda’s had a hard time, I reckon,” declared the captain, “and if I know aught of her parents she will remember this all her life, and will not be so ready to bear false witness against her neighbor.”

“I did not so much mind Amanda’s slapping me,” replied Anne soberly, “but I thought when Aunt Martha shut me up that ’twas because she no longer loved me.”

“Tut, tut, and so you walked off into the wilderness. A very wrong thing to do, Anne,” and Captain Enos’s voice was very grave. “Your running away has made a sad talk in the settlement, and some of the people are ready to say that we have not treated you well, or you would not have fled from us.”

Anne began to realize, for the first time, that she had acted very selfishly. Thinking of nothing but her wish to go to Boston with Rose she had made her best friends anxious and unhappy.

They were sitting on the broad sofa in the quiet sitting-room, and Anne leaned against Uncle Enos and said quickly: “I ought to go straight back to Province Town!” She said it in such a sharp voice that Uncle Enos looked at her wonderingly, and saw that tears were very near falling.

“No, Anne,” he answered kindly. “I want you to go with the Freemans, and have a pleasant visit. Your father’s ship will be in Boston in a few weeks, and he will rejoice to find you there and will bring you safely back to Province Town.”