"But I can't break my promise, Bud; I wouldn't tell a story to save my life."
"Bah, that's some of your mother's stuff; I'll soon take it out of you," said the bully, advancing threateningly toward him. "If you don't tell me all about him I'll break every bone in your body."
"You can do it then, for you won't find out."
Believing that he would have to fight for his very life, as the bully could catch him before he could get away, Fred drew his knife from his pocket, intending to use it as a weapon of defense.
While in the act of opening it, Bud Heyland caught sight of it, and with an exclamation of surprise, he demanded:
"Where did you get that?"
"I found it," replied Fred, who saw how he had forgotten himself in his fear; "is it yours?"
"Let me look at it," said Bud, reaching out his hand for it. Fred hardly knew whether he ought to surrender such a weapon or not, but, as the interest of the bully seemed to center entirely in it, he thought it best to do so.
Bud Heyland examined the jack-knife with great interest. One glance was enough for him to recognize it as his own. He opened the blades and shut them two or three times, and then dropped it into his pocket with the remark:
"I'll take charge of that, I reckon."