“So this was the great secret!” I began. I know it was ungenerous; but they had been very unkind, and revenge was my due. Besides, the memory of my profitless afternoon’s work was hot upon me—and of how I had watched and hoped—“So this—”
“Oh, cut it out, Biffkins!” broke in Dick, huskily. “Don’t rub it in! We—we can’t stand it. You’d better go and call someone—call mother—while we get him out of this thing,” and he began to tear savagely at the net.
“Mother hasn’t come home yet,” I said.
“My father’s at home,” suggested Tom, and without waiting to hear more, I was off along the path to the gate, and then out along the road toward the Chester house, the whole horror of the affair suddenly upon me. I burst up to the door, panting, breathless, and pulled the bell with a fury I was far from realizing. Mr. Chester himself flung the door open.
“Why, what’s the matter?” he cried, seeing my blanched face. “What has happened?”
“The boys,” I gasped incoherently, growing more frightened every minute, “tried to—scare—Silas Tunstall—and he—dropped dead!”
“Dropped dead!” he echoed, and I saw his face go white with sudden horror.
“And they want you to come at once, sir,” I concluded, getting my breath.
“Very well; lead the way,” he said, and he followed me down the path, his lips compressed.
My legs were beginning to tremble under me with fatigue and excitement, but I managed to keep on my feet until we reached the althea bush, and then, pointing mutely to the boys, I tumbled down upon the bench, utterly unable to take another step.