I hesitated in a sort of panic. My head was hot and more incapable than ever. One allpowerful thought moved me: Bony had my watch and chain, and was making off with them. “Come, you ------ fool--they'll shoot us down!” Bony whispered, and I followed him. We were in the midst of a strip of woods, and went bumping the tree-columns on our way-through it. We had come into an open field when we heard our pursuers shouting, back where the horse fell. We ran like frightened sheep, and slowed our pace beyond the top of a hill and began to walk. We tramped for an hour in silence. The sky was clearing, and we could discern the rocks and stones and fences. “I am not going any farther,” I said, stopping suddenly. “Well, go back, then,” said Bony Squares. “You've gone and got me into a nice scrape,” I declared. “Better git sore on me--ye saphead!” said Bony, with contempt. “As if I expected to do anything but give ye a dollar an' a good time.” “I didn't have anything to do with your smuggling,” I said. “If I'd known you were in that kind of business I wouldn't have been with you.” “Go on, ye cry-baby! Wasn't ye in the wagon?” “Yes--but--” “Well, that's enough--the goods was in the wagon, an' so was you an' so was me. All they have to do is to ketch ye with the goods. If ye didn't know what I was up to, what did ye run for?” Between tears and perspiration I felt as if I were melting and running down at the top like a tallow-candle. But I held myself up manfully, and not a whimper came out of me. I had become a fugitive in spite of myself. “Guess they wouldn't do much to us if we did go home,” I said, tentatively. “No--ye Mary chaser! They wouldn't do much more than take us up before we got a mile on the way. Then me an' you to jail, an' yer mother'd have to pay a thousand dollars to git us out. My folks ain't got any money.” A moment of silence followed. “If ye go an' let out on me,” he went on, “I'll swear, by all that's black an' blue, that you were in the game for a part of the profits.” “Give me my watch and chain!” I demanded. “Not unless you'll promise to stay by me till we're safe,” he said. I promised, and so the watch and chain were returned to me then and there. I saw through the low cunning of Bony. He had drawn me into his enterprise for the sake of getting my mother's help in case of trouble. It was growing light, and we soon came out on a smooth road, and walked along it for half a mile or so. Just before the sun rose we came to a man milking in a field by the highway. “Ho, ho! peaches an' cream!” said Bony, as he vaulted the fence. I followed him. “We're lost, broke, an' starving,” said he to the stranger. “Mind giving us a little fresh-laid milk?” “No, but you'll have to take it out o' the pail,” the milker answered.