Thorpe glanced from the window, and started from his seat with an exclamation. At the same moment Cabot Grant turned away and hurried from the station.

"Do you know him?" asked Mr. Gregg.

"He is the very person I was speaking to you about a while ago,"

replied Thorpe.

CHAPTER IX.

SENDING IN A FALSE REPORT.

At sight of Cabot, Thorpe Walling's instinct had been to leave the car and follow him; but the thought of his luggage, which he knew he could not get off in time, caused him to hesitate, and then it was too late, for the train was again in motion.

"The young man did not seem particularly anxious to meet his old cla.s.smate," remarked Mr. Gregg. "In fact, it rather looked as though he wished to avoid recognition."

Thorpe pretended to be too busy with his cards to make reply to this suggestion; but an ugly expression came into his face, and, from that moment, he hated Cabot Grant. When, on the following day, he reached St. Johns and learned of the loss of the "Lavinia," with all on board, except those saved in the mate's boat, he was more perplexed than ever.

Cabot's name was published as one of those who had gone down with the ill-fated steamer, and yet he had certainly seen him alive and well only the day before. What could it mean?

"Do you suppose Hepburn knows of his escape?" asked Mr. Gregg, who was stopping at the same hotel, and to whom Thorpe confided this mystery.

"I haven't an idea."

"What do you say to wiring and finding out? It can't do us any harm, and might gain us an insight into the old man's plans up here."

"I should say it was a good idea."

As a result of this desire for information the following telegram was sent to the president of the Gotham Trust and Investment Company:

"St. Johns, N'f'l'd.--Here all right. What shall I do next?----C. G."

And the answer came promptly:

"Congratulations. Send B. I. report. If in need of funds, draw.----H."

"That settles it!" exclaimed Mr. Gregg, exultingly. "Hepburn is after Bell Island, and your friend was sent here to report upon its value.

Now, it will be a pity if the old man doesn't get his information, which he isn't likely to do for some time with that young chap over on the west coast. Some one ought to send him a report."

"I have a mind to do it myself," said Thorpe, reflectively.

"It would be an awfully decent thing for you to do. Be a good joke on your friend, too, and make him fed ashamed of himself for cutting you so dead yesterday, when he finds it out. He is bound to get into trouble if some sort of a report isn't sent in, now that he is known to have escaped from the wreck."

"Confound him!" exclaimed Thorpe. "I don't care how soon he gets into trouble; nor how much."

"Oh, come. That isn't a nice way to speak of an old friend and cla.s.smate," remarked Mr. Gregg, reprovingly. "Now, I always feel sorry when I see a decent young chap like that throwing away a good chance, and want to help him if I can. So in the present case, I think we really ought to send in a report that will satisfy old Hepburn, and keep the boy solid with his employers. I shouldn't know how to word it myself, but if you, with your expert knowledge of the subject, will make it out, of course after taking a look at the mine, I'll see that you don't lose anything by your kindness."

"All right," replied Thorpe, who was quite sharp enough to comprehend the other's meaning. "I'll do it."

So the two conspirators drove to the picturesque fishing village of Portugal Cove, where they hired a boat to carry them across to Bell Island. There they paid a hasty visit to the mine, which Mr. Gregg plausibly belittled and undervalued, until Thorpe really began to consider it a greatly overestimated piece of property, and this idea he embodied in a report that he wrote out that very evening.

"I'm glad to see that you think as I do concerning the real worthlessness of Bell Island," remarked Mr. Gregg, gravely, as he glanced over the paper, "and the man who would have anything to do with it after reading this must be a greater fool than I take old Hepburn to be."

On the following day a type-written copy of Thorpe's report was made, signed "C. G.," and forwarded by mail to the president of the Gotham Trust and Investment Company. As a result, a telegram was received a week later at the Bank of Nova Scotia in St. Johns addressed to Cabot Grant, and desiring him to return at once to New York. As the bank people wired back that they had no knowledge of any such person, Mr.

Hepburn in reply requested them to keep a sharp lookout for a young man of that name, who would shortly present a letter of credit to them, and provide him with a ticket to New York on account of it, but nothing more. Mr. Hepburn also explained that, as Cabot Grant's guardian, he had the right to thus limit his ward's expenditures.

Thus our lad fell into disgrace with his employer, who knew, as well as any man living, the exact status of the Bell Island iron mine, and had only requested Cabot to report on it in order to test his fitness for other work.

While the correspondence with the bank was being carried on, Messrs.

Walling and Gregg watched for the arrival of the young engineer, whom they expected by every train. They also anxiously awaited the news that the Hepburn syndicate had withdrawn its offer for the Bell Island property, in which event it would fall, at a greatly reduced price, to the company represented by Mr. Gregg.

Totally unconscious of all this, Cabot Grant was at that very time in a remote corner of the west coast, happily engaged in aiding certain of its inhabitants to discomfit the combined naval forces of two of the most powerful governments of the world. Moreover, he had become so interested in this exciting occupation, as well as in certain discoveries that he was making, as to have very nearly lost sight of his intention to visit the capital of the island.

When he reembarked on the "Sea Bee" at St. George's Bay, he fully intended to catch the train of two days later at the station to which White had promised to convey him. He was glad of a chance to view some more of that magnificent west coast scenery, and when the little schooner finally rounded South Head, and was pointed towards the ma.s.sive front of Blomidon, which David Gidge called "Blow-me-down," he felt well repaid for his delay by the enchanting beauty of the Bay of Islands that lay outspread before them.

Soon after pa.s.sing South Head, the "Sea Bee," with flags flying from both masts, slipped through a narrow pa.s.sage into the land-locked basin of Pretty Harbour. On its further sh.o.r.e stood a handful of white houses, and a larger building that fronted the water.

"That's our factory!" cried White, "and there is our house, on the hillside, just beyond. See, the one with the dormer windows. There's Cola waving from one of them now. Bless her! She must have been watching, to sight us so quickly. Oh, I can't wait. Dave, you take the 'Bee' up to the wharf. Mr. Grant will help you, I know, as well as excuse me if I go ash.o.r.e first."

"Of course, I will," replied Cabot; and in another minute the young skipper was sculling ash.o.r.e in the dinghy, while the schooner drifted more slowly in the same direction.

When they finally reached the factory wharf White was on hand to meet them, and beside him stood the slender, merry-eyed girl for whom the schooner had been named. She unaffectedly held out a hand to Cabot when they were introduced, and at once invited him to the house to meet her mother.

"Yes," said White, "you two go along, and don't wait for me. You see,"

he added, apologetically, to Cabot, "there's been a great catch of lobsters, and if I can only get them packed before we are interfered with, we'll make a pretty good season of it, after all."

So the new-comer walked with Cola up the straggling village street, past a score of fisher cottages, each with a tiny porch, pots of flowers in the front windows, and a bit of a garden fenced with wattles, to keep out the children, goats, dogs, and pigs, that swarmed on all sides. At length they came to the neatly kept and comfortable-looking house, overlooking the whole, that White Baldwin called home. Here Cabot was presented to the sweet-faced invalid mother, who sat beside a window of the living-room, from which she could look out on the little harbour, and who was eager to learn the details of his recent experiences that White had only found time to outline to her.

Both mother and daughter listened with deepest interest while Cabot told of the loss of the "Lavinia," and when he had finished Mrs.

Baldwin said:

"You certainly made a wonderful escape, and I am grateful that my boy was granted the privilege of rescuing you from that dreadful raft. I am confident, also, that you have been brought to this place for some wise purpose, and trust that you are planning to remain with us as long as your engagements will permit."

"Thank you, madam," replied Cabot. "I wish I might accept your hospitality for a week, at least. For I am certain I should find much to enjoy in this delightful region. I feel, however, that I ought to catch to-morrow's train, as it is rather necessary for me to reach St.

Johns without further delay."

"It seems queer," remarked Cola, "that this stupid place can strike even a stranger as being delightful, since there is no one to see but fisherfolk, who can talk of nothing but fish, and there isn't a thing to do but watch the boats go and come. For my part, I am so tired of it all that I wish something would happen to send us away from here forever."

"My dear!" said Mrs. Baldwin to Cola, reprovingly.

"Some one seems to have found an occupation here in collecting a cabinet of specimens," suggested Cabot, indicating, as he spoke, some shelves covered with bits of rock, that had attracted his attention.

"Yes," admitted Cola, "I have found some amus.e.m.e.nt in gathering those things; but I don't know what half of them are, and there is no one here to tell me."

"Possibly I might help you to name some of them," said Cabot, "as I have a bowing acquaintance with geology."