"I didn't know what to do, I didn't know where to go; I just wanted to get away from home before the game was up and they nabbed me. It's no fun being pinched, Tom. I thought I might make the visit that this friend of yours was going to make, and hang around here where it's quiet and lonesome, till it was time for him to come. I guess that's about as far as my plans carried. It was a crazy idea, I see that well enough now. But I was rattled--I was just rattled, that's all. I thought that when the time came that I'd have to leave here, maybe I could tramp up north further and change my name again and get a job on some farm or other, till I could earn a little and make good. What I didn't figure on was the kind of a fellow I was going to meet. I--I----" he stammered, trying to control himself in a burst of feeling and clutching Tom's knee, "I--I didn't put it over on you, Tom; maybe it seems that way to you--but--but I didn't. It's you that win, old man--can't you see? It's _you_ that win. You've put it all over _me_ and rubbed it in, and--and--instead of getting away with anything--like I thought--I'll just beat it away from here feeling like a bigger sneak than I ever thought I was. I've--I've seen something here--I have. I thought some of these trees were made of pretty good stuff, but you've got them beat, Slady. I thought I was a wise guy to dig into this forsaken retreat and slip the bandage over your eyes, but--but the laugh is on me, Slady, don't--don't you see?" he smiled, his eyes glistening and his hand trembling on Tom's knee. "You've put it all over me, you old hickory-nut, and I've told you the whole business, and you've got me in your power, see?" Tom Slade looked straight ahead of him and said never a word. "It's--it's a knockout, Slady, and you win. You can go down and tell old Uncle Jeb the whole business," he fairly sobbed, "I won't stop you. I'm sick and discouraged--I might as well take my medicine--I'm--I'm sick of the whole thing--you win--Slady. I'll wait here--I--I won't fool you again--not once again, by thunder, I won't! Go on down and tell him a thief has been bunking up here with you--go on--I'll wait." There was just a moment of silence, and in that moment, strangely enough, a merry laugh arose in the camp below. "You needn't tell me what to do," said Tom, "because I _know_ what to do. There's nobody in this world can tell me what to do. Mr. Burton, he wanted to write to those fellows and fix it. But I knew what to do. Do you call me a quitter? You see these cabins, don't you? Do you think _you_ can tell me what to do?"