"Kill him," said Ezekiel.
"Let him go," said Daniel, looking with pity into the eyes of the dumb captive.
"No, no!" replied Ezekiel, "he'll be at his old tricks again."
The boys could not agree; so they appealed to their father to decide the case.
"Well, my boys," said Mr. Webster, "I will be judge. There is the prisoner, and you shall be counsel, Daniel for him and Ezekiel against him. It rests with you whether the woodchuck shall live or die."
Ezekiel opened the case. The woodchuck, he said, was a thief by nature. He had already done much harm, and would do more, if he were set free. It had cost a great deal of labor to catch him. It would be harder to catch him a second time; for he would have gained in cunning. It was better on every account to put him to death. His skin would be worth something, although it would not half repay the damage he had done.
The father looked with pride upon his son, little dreaming, however, that he was then showing signs of that power that made him so sound a jurist in his manhood.
"Now, Daniel, it is your turn. I'll hear what you have to say."
Daniel saw that the argument of his brother had sensibly moved his father the judge. The boy's large, black eyes looked upon the timid woodchuck, and, as he saw the poor thing trembling with fear, his heart swelled with pity.