Larry was, indeed, just coming up, dragging a piece of timber behind him; while, in his left hand, he held a large bundle of fragments of wood, of different sizes, which, as well as the timber, he was taking home for firing.

“Larry, come here.  The English gentleman wants to speak to you.”

The boy dropped his wood, and came up.

“My lad,” Colonel L’Estrange said, “I am greatly indebted to you for your work of last night.  Take this,” and he placed a purse of ten guineas in Larry’s hand.

“And remember that I am still greatly your debtor, and that if, at any future time, you should be in a position in which my aid may be useful, you have only to let me know, and I will stand your friend.”

The sum appeared to Larry to be enormous.

“Long life to yer honour, and it’s proud I am to have been of service to such a grand gentleman.  It’s thankful I am for your kindness, and if ever you want a boy to do a job for you, it’s myself that will be proud to do it.  As to yesterday, I just came because the young squire tould me to, and thankful I am that he got back safe to shore, for, if we had been drowned, I don’t know whatever I should have said to the squire.”

Two days after the shipwreck, Walter and John Whitefoot met at the place which they had agreed on, when they last saw each other four days before.

“I heard of your brave deed on the night of the storm, Walter.  Everyone is talking of it; and even my grandfather, who has seldom a good word for any of you at the Castle, said that it was a noble deed.  It was as much as I could do not to say, ‘Yes, he is a friend of mine;’ for I felt proud of you, I can tell you.”

“It is all nonsense, John.  I have often been out in a curragh in bad weather, though never in quite such a storm as that; but, once launched, she rode lightly enough, and scarce shipped a spoonful of water.”

“I should like to have been there,” John said; “but I should have been no use.  My people have always been against my going down to the sea, deeming it a pure waste of time, except that they let me go down to swim.  I can do that well, you know; but they have always forbidden my going out in boats.  Now, you see, it is proved that it is not a waste of time, for you have been able to save many lives.  The thought must make you very happy.”

“Well, I don’t know that it does, particularly,” Walter said carelessly.  “Of course, I was glad at the time, but I have not thought much about it one way or the other, since.  You see, the news that has come has driven everything else out of our heads.”

“Is it true, then, the report that we heard yesterday, that William of Orange has set out for England?”

“Yes, it is true enough; and I am afraid, by what I hear, that it is likely to cause all sorts of troubles.”

“I suppose,” John said gravely; “and of course, in this matter my people think differently from yours.  You know we agreed that we would never talk on these subjects, but I am afraid the time is coming when there will be nothing else to be talked of.”