CHAPTER XIX.
Rogues! Roguxs!

Tue next morning, while the grey light of
dawn was still upon the hills and valleys,
Howard Framingham was on his way to the
landing-place, to meet Tom. Just as he arriv-
ed at the turning in the road, leading down to
the river, he stopped upon the brow of the hill.
The east was beginning to be tinged with the
rosy light of early day.

“ Beautiful!” he exclaimed; “well has our
poet said :

‘Yonder comes the king of day, rejoicing in the east.’

I wish he could have seen the magnificent sky
of this country, which, I must confess, far ex-
ceeds that of my beloved England.”

‘ He now heard a distant shout, and turning,