BROTHERS.

TOM HUGHES was not badly hurt, for the lion had only knocked him down and shaken him a bit. He soon came to himself in the fresh air outside the cave, whither he was conveyed as soon as Ahab was in safe keeping.

More intelligent and less savage than his consort Jezebel, the monarch of beasts had proved far easier to capture. Indeed, at the word of his master, he quietly walked into the cage when it was set down near him, and showed no signs of anger when it was lifted bodily, with him in it, on to the truck, and trundled off down the hill by the grooms towards the spot where they had left Jezebel.

Leo and Waif stayed behind with Tom Hughes until he recovered, and this he did ere long.

The boy opened his eyes, and saw by the light of two lanterns the tamer and Davey bending over him.

Fixing his gaze upon the latter, he muttered, "Bless me if it ain't Davey Coleman! I never!"

At these words, Leo, who had Tom's head on his knee, seemed to forget all about this, and started to his feet, exclaiming, "Davey Coleman! What do you know about Davey Coleman?"

Davey turned to Leo with a smile.

"It's my name, sir," said he; "the name I kept from you because I'd been in scrapes with it. But I don't mind you knowing it now, sir—now you've learned to trust me, and to be sure I love you, and mean never to disgrace you."

"Davey Coleman! Davey Coleman!" repeated the tamer to himself, musingly. "But the name might belong to some other than the one I knew. I say, Waif, have you got a home, and if so, where is it?"

And as Leo spoke, Tom got up unobserved, shook himself like a dog that has been rolling in the dust, and made off down the hill.

"Where's your home, Waif?" again inquired the tamer.

"Near Bristol, sir," replied Davey.

"Your parents died when you were a mere baby?"

"Yes, sir, just so, though how—"

"Never mind that now! Were you adopted by your father's brother and his wife?"

"I was, sir, but—"

"Wait a bit, Waif! Were their names Uncle Zach and Aunt Patty?"

"They were,—they are,—God bless them!" cried Davey.

There was silence for a moment. The young tamer, who never flinched in the presence of the fiercest beast, seemed afraid to say something that was in his mind.

At last, he said with an effort, "Tell me, child, did you ever hear your uncle and aunt speak of a long-lost nephew of theirs, your brother Harry?"

"Indeed, yes, often," replied the lad. "Oh, sir, did you know my brother Harry? Have you met him in foreign parts? Is he living still?"

Again there was silence, and the boy, looking up, saw Leo's breast heaving and his eyes full of tears.

The next moment, the truth flashed upon him, and the brothers were clasped in each other's arms.

It was only when they were walking homeward that Leo recovered himself sufficiently to give an outline of his story.

The death of his parents he did not hear of till long after it occurred, and the letter from the friend who gave him this sad news had told him also that his little brother was adopted by Zach and Patty Coleman. After this, Harry's life had been one of change and adventure. He had been a sailor for a while, and had gone all over the world, living, so to speak, from hand to mouth, and getting into many a mad scrape. But all the excitement and stir of his varying surroundings did not prevent his being haunted by the feeling that he had broken the hearts of his parents. He knew his little brother was better taken care of than if he, Harry, took the child under his own charge; and as he had no other relatives in England, and none anywhere who had any claim on him, he continued to lead a roving life.

It was in the course of this that he discovered by accident that he had a remarkable power over animals, and, feeling that he might turn this gift into a means of livelihood, he took up with the dangerous business of a tamer,—training wild beasts on a system of his own, which forbade cruelty or the rousing of the passions of his refractory pupils.

All this and much more Leo (for we will still call him by his best known name) told Davey as they walked back to Tenby in the grey dawn. So full were they of their own concerns that they had not once thought of Tom. And when they realised that he had got away, they were by no means sorry, Davey especially being thankful to be rid of him.

On the arrival of the brothers, the news met them that the master of the ring and his men had returned without the bear. He had been tracked by the dogs as far as the shore, but the tide, coming up in the bay, had covered the sands, and the dogs lost the scent. The men were too weary to begin a fresh search on the cliff, and so came back empty-handed.

"I can't afford to lose my old Jacob," said Leo to Davey, "so I shall just take an hour or two of rest and something to eat, and then I shall go hunting again. But you'd better remain behind, Davey. You must be tired, and I don't want to drag you any further."

But Davey would not be left behind; so, in about two hours and a half, the brothers set off again, having this time the advantage of the daylight for their venture.

Leo reasoned in this way. Either the bear had taken refuge from the rising tide in some sheltered cleft of the cliff, or some quiet spot further inland, or he had made up his mind to swim to one of the islands that formed a natural breakwater to Tenby, namely, Caldy and St. Margaret's.

If he were still on the mainland, a little persevering tracking with the dogs would discover his whereabouts. If he had risked the danger of a long swim, then Leo resolved to follow him across the water.

The dogs, on being taken to the cliff above the beach to westward of the town, recovered the scent of Bruin, and led on down the cliff and across the Downs, until they came to a corner of the beach on the nearer side of Giltar Point, and nearly opposite to St. Margaret's.

At this place the scent ceased, and there seemed no reason to doubt that Jacob had taken to the water just here, where the passage was narrow, and had swum over to the wild little island.

Leo and his party accordingly procured a boat near Penally, and, while they were bargaining with the owner for the use of it, he told them that a small punt belonging to a fisherman, and moored to a sunken post on the beach, had been stolen during the night or in the early morning, much to the surprise of the man, thefts of this sort being of rare occurrence on these coasts.

"Well, my good fellow," said Leo, as they pushed off, "we're going across to St. Margaret's, and should we chance to see anything of the stolen punt, we'll take her in tow, and bring her back with us, and perhaps the thief too."

"Thank you, sir, and good luck to you," said the fisherman.