. Each would meet an unjust
accusation in silence. And Jim was beginning to show another of his
father's characteristics. A still anger was beginning to burn in him
against this man who accused him of a deed which he himself had
done, and he felt rising within him a stubborn will to endure, not
to surrender. If his father was going to act like that, why, let
him--

"Where is your shot-pouch?" asked Mr. Edwards.

Jim motioned toward the drawer.

"Is your powder-flask there, too?"

"Yes."

Mr. Edwards was silent After all, he was a just man. He was trying,
as well as his headache would let him, to see things straight.

"It's plain what happened," he said at last. "You had an accident
and got frightened. You cleaned your gun, you hid the rags, you put
away your ammunition, you got your books and pretended to study.
You're afraid to tell the truth now."

Jim's face flushed hotly, but he kept silent. Such assurance, such
cruelty, he had never imagined. If this was what smugglers were
like--if this was a sample of their tricks--

"I'll give you one more chance to tell the truth," said Mr. Edwards.
"Did you do it?"

"No, I didn't!" said Jim, and his jaw snapped close like his
father's.

"Very well," said Mr. Edwards. "I'll leave you until you change
your mind. You will stay here. Sarah will bring you bread and milk
at supper-time. If you're willing to talk to me then, you may tell
her that you'd like to see me."

He turned to go, then paused.

"It's a serious matter; and all the facts are against you. It would
go hard with you in court. It will go harder if you stick to your
stubborn and foolish lie. One thing more: if you don't choose to
tell the truth, you will have to reckon with the law as well as
with me."

Mr. Edwards, upon this, shut the door and departed. His was a stern
figure, but the hurt within was very sore. This, then, he reflected
bitterly, was the kind of boy he had. He suffered deeply at the
discovery, which for him was unquestionable.

Jim felt outraged. He had done his loyal best to save his father
from the consequences of his rash act, and now, with incredible
ingenuity and cool injustice, his father was using his son's acts of
helpfulness to make it appear that he had done the deed. Without a
scruple, his father had made him a scapegoat.

Jim told himself that he would gladly have taken the blame had his
father, as chief of the band, demanded the sacrifice of this, his
devoted follow