aid to Willis; but he declared
that he would never shoot a deer or a moose when it was snow-bound in a
yard.

We lingered near the yard for an hour or more. By speaking kindly to the
oxen I found that I could go very close to them; they had by no means
forgotten human beings. On our way back to Willis's camp he reminded me
of my promise. "Now, don't you tell where those oxen are; don't tell
anybody!"

"But, Willis, don't you think Jotham ought to know?" I asked.

"No, I don't!" Willis exclaimed. "He has abused those oxen enough!
They've got away from him, and I'm glad of it! I'll never tell him where
they are!"

We argued the question all the way to camp, and at last Willis said
bluntly that he should not have taken me to see them if he had thought
that I would tell. "You promised not to," said he. That was true, and
there the matter rested overnight.

When I started home the next morning Willis walked with me for two miles
or more. We had not mentioned Jotham's oxen since the previous
afternoon; but I plainly saw that Willis had been thinking the matter
over, for, after we separated and had each gone a few steps on his way,
he called after me:

"Are you going to tell about that?"

"No," said I, and walked on.

"Well, if you're not going to feel right about it, ask the old Squire
what he thinks. If he says that Jotham ought to be told, perhaps you had
better tell him." And Willis hastened away.

But on reaching home I found that the old Squire had set off for
Portland early that morning to see about selling his lumber and was not
to return for a week. So I said nothing to any one. The night after he
got back I watched for a chance to speak with him alone. After supper he
went into the sitting-room to look over his lumber accounts, and I stole
in after him.

"You remember Jotham's oxen, gramp?" I began.

"Why, yes," said he, looking up.

"Well, I know where they are," I continued.

"Where?" he exclaimed in astonishment.

I then told him where Willis had found them and about the yard and the
moose and deer we had seen with the oxen. "Willis doesn't want Jotham
told," I added. "He says Jotham has abused those oxen enough, and that
he is glad they got away from him. He made me promise not to tell any
one at first, but finally he said that I might tell you, and that we
should do as you think best."

The old Squire gave me an odd look. Then he laughed and resumed his
accounts for what seemed to me a long