“How could it have happened?” he exclaimed. At which there was a universal whistle and a shaking of heads. “You see,” continued Bob, “it’s absolutely necessary for us to decide in our own minds, the first thing, whether it was our fault or not. Because, if it was, I suppose we’ve got to own up to it sometime or other, and we may as well do it first as last.” “Better now, if at all, than later,” said Tom. “They might have some mercy on us now, being grateful that they didn’t burn up.” “All but Colonel Witham,” said young Joe. “Catch him being grateful for anything, with his hotel in ashes.” “Keep quiet, Joe!” exclaimed George Warren, sharply. The very mention of Colonel Witham’s name was irritating. It was only too certain that no mercy could be expected from the colonel. “But,” said Arthur Warren, “we’re not to blame, so why should we consider that at all? You remember,” he continued, turning to Henry Burns, “how we waited after I had blown the last lamp out and the room was absolutely dark, and we had to stand still a moment till our eyes got accustomed to the darkness before we could find our way to the window?” “I remember that,” answered Henry Burns; “and not one of us lighted any matches all the time we were there, because the lamps were all burning dimly when we went in; but,” he added, somewhat desperately for him, “that is not going to save us the moment an investigation begins, if they have one. The first time they begin to question one of us we’re done for. The moment they know we were in there last night, that will settle everything in their minds.” “And what then?” asked young Joe. “Well,” said Henry Burns, more calmly, “it means that we’ve got a twenty-five thousand dollar hotel to pay for.” The proposition was so absurd that they burst out laughing; but it was a short-lived and bitter merriment, and they could just as easily have cried. “What would our fathers say?” said Arthur Warren. “Ours told us we’d have to make our pocket-money go a long way this summer, because he rigged the boat all over for us. There couldn’t any of us pay for the hotel in all our lives.” “Perhaps they’d send us to jail,” suggested young Joe. This happy remark was received with howls of indignation, and the originator of it was invited to clear out if he couldn’t keep quiet. “They couldn’t send us to jail,” said Arthur, gravely, “for, at the worst, we could convince them that it was accidental. We may be nuisances, but we’re not criminals. Wouldn’t it be better, on the whole,” he concluded, “to make a clean breast of it to father, and do whatever he says is best?”