Then his thoughts reverted to the cabin, where he had slept two nights, and, of course, to the little angel, who had supplied the commissary department during his sojourn in the woods. He could dress himself up with the money in the pocketbook, and, after a while, when he got a place, take the stage for Rockville. Wouldn't she be astonished to see him then, in fine broadcloth! Wouldn't she walk with him over to the spot where he had killed the black snake! Wouldn't she be proud to tell her father that this was the boy she had fed in the woods! What would she say to him? He had promised to write to her when he got settled, and tell her how he got along, and whether he was good or not. What should he say? How glad she would be to hear that he was getting along so finely! "Stop!" said he to himself. "What have I been thinking about? This pocketbook isn't mine." I am sorry to say it, but Harry really felt sad when the thought occurred to him. He had been building very pretty air castles on this money, and this reflection suddenly tumbled them all down--new clothes, new cap, boarding house, visit to Rockville--all in a heap. "But I found it," Harry reasoned with himself. Something within him spoke out, saying: "You stole it, Harry." "No, I didn't; I found it." "If you don't return it to the owner, you will be a thief," continued the voice within. "Nobody will know that I found it. I dare say the owner does not want it half so much as I do." "No matter for that, Harry; if you keep it you will be a thief." He could not compromise with that voice within. It was the real Harry, within the other Harry, that spoke, and he was a very obstinate fellow, positively refusing to let him keep the pocketbook, at any rate. "What am I about? She hoped I would be a good boy, and the evil one is catching me as fast as he can," resumed Harry. "Be a good boy," added the other Harry. "I mean to be, if I can." "The little angel will be very sad when she finds out that you are a thief." "I don't mean to be a thief. But this pocketbook will make me rich. She never will know anything about it." "If she does not, there is One above who will know, and his angels will frown upon you, and stamp your crime upon your face. Then you will go about like Cain, with a mark upon you." "Pooh!" said the outer Harry, who was sorely tempted by the treasure within his grasp. "You will not dare to look the little angel in the face, if you steal this money. She will know you are not good, then. Honest folks always hold their heads up, and are never ashamed to face any person." "I don't keep it!" replied the struggling, tempted Flesh. "Why did I think of such a thing?" He felt strong then, for the Spirit had triumphed over the Flesh. The foe within had been beaten back, at least for the moment; and as he laid his head upon the old coat that was to serve him for a pillow, he thought of Julia Bryant. He thought he saw her sweet face, and there was an angelic smile upon it.