"Of course you don't want to kill him--let the fever do that. Let him go away, and lose the run of you. Something must be done at once. He is a smart boy, they say, and if he should happen to get an idea, he would blow you and me so high that we never should come down." That was an idea, and I happened to get it. "My son, I have stained my soul with crime for your sake," added my uncle, bitterly. "We have wronged this boy enough. I will not have him injured." "I don't wish to injure him, only to get him out of the way, so that he will lose the run of you," replied Tom, petulantly. "He don't know anything about me." "Don't flatter yourself, Tom Thornton," I thought, but did not say. "I am willing to do anything proper to be done with him. He will graduate soon at the Institute, and we must find a place for him in some business," said uncle Amos. "I will find a situation for him in New Orleans." "Not to take his life." "No, no; certainly not. I know of a firm there that wants a young man from the north, and you must send him off in the course of a week. Now, what has the villain done with that girl?" "I don't know; he has not brought her here," answered my uncle. "What has he done with her? There was a young fellow with him; do you know who he was?" "Probably the Hale boy. They run together." "What could they have done with the girl?" "I don't know. What motive had they for carrying her off?" "Out of pity I suppose. Kate is a careless girl, wilful, and disobedient. She objects to being shut up in her chamber for her misdemeanors." Tom Thornton related the incident in which Bob and I had been concerned on the pier. "The child must have been badly abused, or she would not have jumped into the lake," said uncle Amos, when he had heard the story. "It does not concern you or me whether she has been or not. I fancy the girl is not of much use to any one." "Why do you run after her, then?" "What's the use of arguing the question. Mrs. Loraine wishes me to find the girl, and return her; and I'm going to do it, if I have to choke your smart boy to get at it. Where is he?" "In his chamber; but you must not harm him," replied uncle Amos, nervously. "He is as high-spirited as his father was." "What do I care for that? He must tell me where the girl is." "Perhaps he will not be willing to tell you." "Then I shall make him do so," added Tom, savagely; and it seemed to me he was getting up a very pleasant prospect for me. "You must handle him very carefully," said my uncle, nervously. "If he tells me where the girl is, that's all I want of him. If he don't, I shall--I shall crush it out of him. He will find I am not made of milk and water." "You will find I am not, either," I said to myself, as, when Tom moved towards the door, I rose from my recumbent posture, and hastened back to my chamber.