“Yes; he looked into the kiln; and he says, ‘What made you throw away the knife, Ambrose?’--‘How does a man know why he does anything,’ I says, ‘when he does it in a passion?’--‘It’s a ripping good knife,’ says Silas; ‘in your place, I should have kept it.’ I picked up the stick off the ground. ‘Who says I’ve lost it yet?’ I answered him; and with that I got up on the side of the kiln, and began sounding for the knife, to bring it, you know, by means of the stick, within easy reach of a shovel, or some such thing. ‘Give us your hand,’ I says to Silas. ‘Let me stretch out a bit and I’ll have it in no time.’ Instead of finding the knife, I came nigh to falling myself into the burning lime. The vapor overpowered me, I suppose. All I know is, I turned giddy, and dropped the stick in the kiln. I should have followed the stick to a dead certainty, but for Silas pulling me back by the hand. ‘Let it be,’ says Silas. ‘If I hadn’t had hold of you, John Jago’s knife would have been the death of you, after all!’ He led me away by the arm, and we went on together on the road to the wood. We stopped where you found us, and sat down on the felled tree. We had a little more talk about John Jago. It ended in our agreeing to wait and see what happened, and to keep our own counsel in the meantime. You and Mr. Lefrank came upon us, Naomi, while we were still talking; and you guessed right when you guessed that we had a secret from you. You know the secret now.” There he stopped. I put a question to him--the first that I had asked yet. “Had you or your brother any fear at that time of the charge which has since been brought against you?” I said. “No such thought entered our heads, sir,” Ambrose answered. “How could _we_ foresee that the neighbors would search the kiln, and say what they have said of us? All we feared was, that the old man might hear of the quarrel, and be bitterer against us than ever. I was the more anxious of the two to keep things secret, because I had Naomi to consider as well as the old man. Put yourself in my place, and you will own, sir, that the prospect at home was not a pleasant one for _me_, if John Jago really kept away from the farm, and if it came out that it was all my doing.” (This was certainly an explanation of his conduct; but it was not satisfactory to my mind.) “As _you_ believe, then,” I went on, “John Jago has carried out his threat of not returning to the farm? According to you, he is now alive, and in hiding somewhere?” “Certainly!” said Ambrose. “Certainly!” repeated Naomi. “Do you believe the report that he was seen traveling on the railway to New York?” “I believe it firmly, sir; and, what is more, I believe I was on his track. I was only too anxious to find him; and I say I could have found him if they would have let me stay in New York.” I looked at Naomi. “I believe it too,” she said. “John Jago is keeping away.” “Do you suppose he is afraid of Ambrose and Silas?” She hesitated.