l8

DALLAS GALBRAITH.

“ Be you shutting out the sound of the sea ?” laughed Tim. “ You can't do it, Dallas.

lt’ll foller and foller.

I’ve

tried it in the woods.” VVhen they were once seated at the smoking supper, however, Dallas forgot

[_IAh'UAR',

motion, the stolid light-blue eyes took in and noted all that was in the room ; but

Dallas laughed unconcernedly, clearing away the dishes.

“ The gun is I.addoun’s.”

“Laddoun’s? But thou art a keen marksman, they tell me. Does thee not pursued him. He had a way of giving find thy skill wasted on this beach ?” himself up so childishly to his fun, and A trace of significance crept into the a habit, too, when serious, of showing ' last words. He checked himself sud his great ignorance through incessant denly, coughing behind his hand, and sat questions, that even Tim Graah felt him looking steadily in the fire, while Gal self his superior. While Dallas set open braith made some boyish efforts to en mouthed, listening intently to the story of tertain him, discussing the schools of Jane Graa.h’s marriage, Tim regarded him mackerel that had run in last week, and as little better than a fool. One would the chance of a nor’easter before No think, from his questions, he never had vember. lived where there were women before. “ Thee has learned the lingo of the “ Where will you live when you are beach soon,” looking up at last. “ Thee has got quite a salty flavor into thyself married, Dallas?” the story being fin ished. Here’s the workshop? So ?" suddenly “ Here.” The answer was grave and facing about to a little closet immedi prompt. “There’s a place up on the ately behind him. Had the man eyes river nobody knows but me. I’ll build in the back of his head, then? Tim dragged behind them with a pale face, a house there.” “ Thee has matured thy plans early,” one hand gripping Galbraith’s shirt sleeve. the sound of the sea, or whatever had

said a quiet voice behind him, and tum

But Dallas hurried eagerly with a candle

ing, the boys saw the Quaker Ledwith in the open door. “ Thy supper smelled savory, Friend Galbraith. Thee must blame it for making me unlatch the door and come in uninvited.” Dallas colored with pleasure. “There’s a crab or two left,” looking in the dish, and then bustling off for a clean plate. The Quaker seated himself, his thick arms crossed on the little table ; his square, solid figure seemed to fill up the room, and Tim, from being an honored guest, felt himself dwindle suddenly down into the usual superfluous nuisance of 2. b0 '. il.£d'Iitl1 remained a moment doubtful after the dish was placed before him ; the delicious morsel tempted him. Then he pushed it from him. “l think l will not

after the Quaker, who stood in the recess quite motionless for a moment ; in that moment, however, he had absorbed every item about him, and classed and rated them. “ Shelf of old books_bought ofi‘ of

eat thy bread and salt, Dallas,” he said.

“ Thee has a comfortable little house here ; very comfortable. But a gun, eh? One would not think thee needed defence for thy house P” Tim, whose wide-awake gaze never left the stranger‘s face, wondered here, more and more, how, without apparent

stalls-—De Candolle, Bartram, Pursh—a

botanist, eh? half-worn~out works on

chemistry—how many? old treatises on geology. These cost a pretty penny !” while Galbra.ith passed his hand over them with an unconscious caress. brush ing the dust from one or two. “ Bottles full of ore and sand. Boxes of herbs and earths ; a pick—shovels. VVhat is in that cupboard?” sharply, tapping it with his cane. Galbraith opened it with a proud flush ; the Quaker gave a start of surprise. “A battery ! Chemical apparatus_manufac tured out of old vials and pipes. Thee has a wonderful cleverness, boy,” turn

ing over the queer substitutes for retorts and crucibles with a smile, and sfeaking in a quick. changed voice. “I had a fancy for the study when I was a boy, but I

took to_to making analyses of a differ