“If I don’t?” asked the man, with a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “Why--we’ll just take them, that’s all.” “I wonder if you could do it?” said the other, measuring the two with his eyes. “I almost believe you could.” “Well, then--” began Allan. “But of course you’d get damaged in the process,” continued the other, cheerfully. “Now, look here; you’ve killed my ducks, and it’s only right that you should pay for them. Isn’t that so?” “Yes; but if we have no money----” “That’s it,” was the answer. “It doesn’t seem probable that you two students would come six miles from college without any money. Where are you going to get your dinner?” “There isn’t going to be any dinner,” said Pete. “You can believe us or not, just as you like, and be hanged to you! If you’ll put down your gun, I’ll lick you.” “That’s an honest offer,” said the man, smiling outright for the first time, “but it isn’t just practical. I rather think you could do it, and I don’t see why I should be licked merely because you have killed my ducks. Do you?” “I guess that’s so, partner,” Pete answered. “But something’s got to be done. I can’t walk home without any shoes.” The man received this assertion in silence, glancing thoughtfully from Pete to the articles in discussion. The dog looked suspiciously from Pete to Allan. Allan scowled at the dog’s master. The latter spoke: “Here, Jack!” Jack went to him unwillingly. Pete picked up his shoes and stockings. “Thanks!” he said. Then he put them on. The man watched him smilingly. When the last lace was tied, Pete got up. “My name’s Burley,” he said. “I’ll come over with your money to-morrow or next day. Come on, Allan. Good day, sir.” “You’re forgetting your rifle,” said the man. Pete looked puzzled. Then-- “Do I get that, too?” he asked. “Yes, you might as well take that along, I guess.” Pete went back and got it. “Where you going now?” asked the man. “Home,” said Pete. “But how about dinner?” “Well, maybe we’ll beg something to eat on the way. I guess there ain’t any place around here where they’d take a Winchester carbine as security for a Thanksgiving dinner, is there?” asked Pete, with a smile. The stranger answered the smile. “Hardly. But I tell you what you do. Strike straight up through the woods here over the hill till you come to a lane. Keep along that for a quarter of a mile until you come to a big brown house standing back from the lane. You go there and tell ’em you’re hungry, and you’ll get plenty to eat. Ask for Mr. Guild. Don’t forget, now; first house you come to. There isn’t another for a mile further, so you’d better follow my advice.” “Thanks!” said Pete. Allan echoed him. “All right,” said the man, smiling kindly. “Good morning, gentlemen.”