“Good-morning, sir,” Andy made answer.

“And where have you fared?”

“That I cannot tell you, sir.”

“You cannot tell me!” the man sighed, impatiently.  “Now, do you know, for a moment I fancied that you were just the lad who could guide me over your interesting island.  What with all this excitement, a peaceful traveler has no show above-ground.  I hoped you might lead me mole-fashion.”

“I will gladly show you through the pass, sir, as far as the gate a mile or so below.”

“As far as the gate!  Always as far as something!  I want to go beyond—­’as far!’ What care I for countersigns and passports.  I want the freedom of the island, and a chance to study its rocks and flowers and very interesting weeds.  Boys often know paths unknown to any one else—­except Indians!”

“But I am a lame boy much dependent upon a crutch.”

“You can dispense with it at times,” laughed the stranger.  “For a good two hours you did without it to-day.  It and I have been keeping company.  I followed you at a distance, thinking easily to overtake you, when piff! you were gone, and I and the crutch—­for you see I searched the hole—­were alone!”

For some moments Andy’s hand had been free, and now as he looked at the speaker he saw that he was holding in his open palm the charm which last he had beheld that glorious morning by the riverside.

With a glad cry he sprang up.  “I am Andy McNeal!” he said, and he doffed Sam’s hat, which was his only martial possession.

“And I—­am the schoolmaster!”

The two clasped hands.  That was the beginning.  Through the following days the master abode in Janie’s house.  The good woman asked no questions.  Her curiosity burned and burned, but wisdom held it in check.  Enough that Andy was the companion of this mighty person.  Enough that her humble roof sheltered him, and her able hands served him faithfully.  It was wonderful, and—­enough.  Ruth, too, throbbed with excitement, but went her ways calmly as if it were a common enough thing for a splendid schoolmaster to suddenly undertake Andy’s neglected education, and pay for his lodging and board by instructing the hostess’s son.

This was what was going on.  Book in hand the two walked abroad quite openly.  Sometimes it would be rocks or flowers they were bent upon understanding, at other times the intricacies of the English language were the paths they followed.  Occasionally Ruth would be asked to join in the walks and talks, but oftener they were alone.  There were real lessons.  Andy pondered upon them deeply, and his hungry mind fed upon the feast.  Of course, so fine a master walking abroad with the lame boy, aroused the notice of the sentinels, but to their questions he answered so glibly, that there remained nothing to do but ask more.  The game became tiresome.

The tutor and his pupil kept within bounds, so there was no excuse for interference.  But one day, quite lost in abstraction, the two passed beyond the gate at the end of the pass, and strolled down the road patroled by the British.  Suddenly a loud “Halt!” made Andy jump.  A look of surprise passed over the master’s face as a bayonet was thrust in front of him.