"Come with me, my lad; I want a word with you."

Still trembling from the excitement of the scene through which he had
just passed, Frank followed the foreman into his little sanctum, the
inside of which he had never seen before, for it was kept jealously
locked whenever its occupant was absent. Johnston threw himself clown on
his bunk, and motioned Frank to take a seat upon the chest. For a few
moments he regarded him in silence, and so intently that, although his
expression was full of kindness, and it seemed of admiration, too, the
boy felt his face flushing under his steady scrutiny. At last the foreman
spoke.

"You're a plucky lad, Frank. Just like your father-God bless him' He was
a good friend to me when I needed a friend sorely. I heard all that went
on to-night, though I didn't see it, and had some hint of it before,
though I didn't let on, for I wanted to see what stuff you were made of.
But you played the man, my boy, and your father would have been proud to
see you. Now just you go right ahead, Frank; and if any of those French
rascals or anybody else tries to hinder you, out of this shanty he'll go,
neck and crop, and stay out, as sure as my name is Dan Johnston."

"You're very kind, Mr. Johnston," said Frank, his eyes glistening
somewhat suspiciously, for, to tell the truth, this warm praise coming
after the recent strain upon his nerves was a little too much for his
self-control. "I felt sometimes like telling you when the men tormented
me so; but I didn't want to be a tale-bearer, and I was hoping they'd get
tired of it and give up of their own accord."

"It's best as it is, lad," replied Johnston. "If the men found out you