All three of the boys were much mystified by the old hermit’s words.

“He must be a little off in his head,” thought Harry.

“Who is Abraham?” asked Jerry.

“This is Abraham!” cried the hermit. “Are you not Abraham?” he went on to Blumpo.

“I reckon not, sah. I’se jess plain Blumpo Brown.”

“Blumpo Brown! Ha! how well I remember that name! You are indeed Abraham, and I am your father!”

And the hermit caught Blumpo in his arms. It is needless to say the youth was frightened and bewildered.

“Come to my cave and I will tell you all,” went on the hermit, and he dragged Blumpo along.

Jerry and Harry willingly followed. They found that the old man had quite a comfortable place among the rocks. It was elaborately furnished, showing that the hermit was well-to-do.

They all took seats on some skins thrown over rude couches. The hermit made Blumpo sit close to him.

“My name is Daniel Brown,” he began. “And you, Blumpo, are my only son. Your full name is Blum-pou-la-hau,—the Indian for boy-of-the-laughing-face,—for, you know, you have much Indian blood in your veins.”

“Dat’s what folks said I had,” said Blumpo.

“I thought you were dead—that you had been drowned. It was this drove me to make a hermit of myself.”

Then the old hermit went into many particulars, to which all listened with great interest.

Blumpo could scarcely believe his ears. His face began to expand, and a smile broke out on it, the like of which had never before been seen. He was a homeless waif no longer. He had found a father.

Jerry and Harry talked to the old hermit for an hour and more. They found him peculiar in his ideas, but with a warm heart.

Before they retired for the night Daniel Brown came to the conclusion to give up his dwelling on the top of the mountain.

He said he would build a cabin down by the lakeside and there he and Blumpo could live like ordinary people.

“I have several thousand dollars saved up,” he said, “so we will not want for anything. I will buy a boat, and Blumpo can make a living by letting her out to pleasure parties.”

“Dat will suit me exactly,” cried Blumpo.

“But you must also go to school in the winter,” went on Daniel Brown. “And you must drop that dialect, and not say dat for that.”

“Golly! but won’t I be eddicate!” murmured Blumpo. “Say, Pop maybe I kin hab—I mean have—a new suit, eh?”

“Two of them, Abraham,” said the hermit; and then all hands laughed.

It was well for the boys that they were housed in the hermit’s dwelling, for that night a terrible thunder storm came up. The wind howled and shrieked around the mountain top, and continued until dawn.

“If we had been on the plateau we would have been blown off into the lake,” said Harry, at breakfast.

By nine o’clock it cleared off and at twelve the mountain was as dry as ever. They packed up, and, accompanied by the hermit, set off, for the old camp.

Daniel Brown knew every inch of the mountain and under his guidance they reached the bottom much quicker than they would otherwise have done.

As they were trailing through the woods toward the camp, Harry suddenly put up his hand.

“Listen! Don’t you hear some persons talking?” he asked.

“Where can it be?” asked Jerry.

“Down by the camp,” said Blumpo.

“Si Peters’ crowd, I’ll bet a new hat!” cried Jerry. “Come on, all of you!”

The young oarsman broke into a run, and Harry and Blumpo came after, with the hermit lagging on behind. A turn in the brush brought them in sight of the camp.

There were Si Peters, Wash Crosby, and four others in the act of shoving Harry’s craft into the water.

“They intended to run off with our boat!” yelled Jerry. “Stop, there, you thieves!”

“Stop, or we’ll fire on you!” added Harry.

The Peters crowd were surprised and alarmed. They hesitated for a moment.

“Go ahead, don’t mind them!” howled Si Peters. “Quick, fellows, shove out to the yacht!”

Before Jerry and the others could reach the spot the big row-boat was afloat. The Peters crowd leaped on board and quickly shipped the oars.

“Stop, or we’ll fire on you!” sang out Harry again.

“Fire and be blowed!” howled Wash Crosby.

Bang! went Harry’s gun, and the shot rattled all around the row-boat.

But now a turn of a headland took the craft out of range.

“Follow me!” said Jerry, as he leaped across the camp to where they could again catch sight of the craft.

Over the rock and through the brush they stumbled, a distance of two hundred feet. Then the shore of the lake was again reached.

But, alas! before they could do anything the Peters crowd was entirely out of range. They saw the big row-boat taken over to where the yacht lay at anchor. Harry’s craft was tied fast to the stern and the Rockpointers clambered aboard their own vessel.

“Good-bye and good luck to you!” cried Si Peters, mockingly. “Hope you fellows enjoy playing Robinson Crusoe. We’ll come back for you some time next year.”

And then the yacht sailed away, leaving those on the island to their fate.