Shall we dedicate it to youth, and name it Childe Arthur's Pilgrimage ?" By this time smoke was issuing in a steady stream from the stove-pipe above the cabin-top, and presently from within came the hiss and fragrance of bacon frying.

Sam Bossom had stepped ashore, and called to the children to help in collecting sticks and build a fire for the tea-kettle.

Tilda, used though she was to nomad life, had never known so delightful a picnic.

Only her eyes wandered back apprehensively, now and then, to the smoke of the great town.

As for Arthur Miles--Childe Arthur, as Mr.Mortimer henceforth insisted on their calling him--he had apparently cast away all dread of pursuit.