Roughriders of the Pampas: A Tale of Ranch Life in South America

by F. S. Brereton

"Then I will ask the question. Boys," said the headmaster, "a series of despicable thefts has been taking place. I was determined to put a stop to them, and for that purpose placed seven marked shillings in a drawer in Mr. Harland's room. Those shillings were stolen, and within two hours six of them were found in the purse of your late captain. You have heard what he has to say. Is there any truth in it? Is there a boy here who owed him money, and refunded it after the theft? I beg of him, if that boy is here, to come forward and save the honor of Dudley Compton."

Silence was his only answer. The boys looked askance at one another, and two or three of the older ones even glanced across at Joyce. But the latter looked as jaunty and cool as ever. His eyes were fixed on the headmaster, and he seemed to have forgotten poor Dudley. But his heart was beating furiously. His legs would hardly support him, and the boy was trying and trying to screw up his courage to declare himself the thief, and so save his old friend and comrade. He hesitated. Dread of what would follow sealed his lips, and in a second or two the opportunity had gone. It was too late to speak. Dudley was condemned to be expelled, and was already out of the room. Only when Joyce returned to his own cubicle did the enormity of his offence fully appeal to him. Then, when it was almost too late, he saw what a coward he had been, how dishonorable and despicable had been his conduct. For he it was who had actually stolen the coins. In fact it was Joyce who had for some time been acting as a common thief. He had been tempted. The power to spend money, to be able to cut a dash and appear grand before his fellows, possessed a huge fascination for him, and he had fallen to the temptation. After that he had repeated the offence. And now he groaned when he reflected on this last act, to which thieving had led him. He had always had a large amount of friendly feeling for Dudley. He had looked up to the lad, recognizing in him a stronger nature. And now he had stood aside and had seen him condemned, knowing all the while that he was innocent.

"I can't bear it. I will go at once and set the matter right," he cried.

He rushed to the door of his cubicle, dragged it open, and ran into the passage. And there his courage again oozed through his finger tips. It was so easy to let matters rest where they were. It was so hard to go and make that declaration, and afterwards to be expelled, to face all that that meant. He hesitated, returned to the cubicle to think it over, and finally did nothing. But for days and weeks Dudley's look of anguish haunted him. Joyce became a different person. He no longer displayed such an amount of linen. His clothes were less conspicuous, and the cash which he had freely spent before was now kept in his pocket. Remorse was steadily altering the boy. The subject of the theft was never out of his mind in waking hours, and when asleep he even dreamed of poor Dudley. For Joyce was not a bad fellow at heart. True, he was a thief, a mean contemptible thief; but there was a lot of good in the lad if only he could be induced to show a little more moral courage. If he had been otherwise, if he had been hardened and callous, he would hardly have given a thought to his crime, or to the suffering imposed on Dudley. At length, tortured by the recollection of what he had done, he finally resolved to declare his guilt, and straightway went to the headmaster. Later, strong in his purpose, he faced the whole school, admitted that he was guilty, and begged earnestly that every boy present would recollect that Dudley was innocent. Then he left the school, and once at home set about to consider how he was to make amends to Dudley.

Dudley finished his portion of the tale while Mr. Blunt listened attentively.

"Joyce could have saved me," he said solemnly. "He owed me money, and repaid it with the coins which were marked. How did he become possessed of them? And remember, sir, that scarcely two hours passed between the theft and the discovery of the marked coins. To my mind there is no doubt that Joyce was the guilty person, and I am sure that if he had had more pluck he would have come forward. In any case I am sure that life has been unbearable to him since. At heart he is a decent fellow, and I am certain that his conscience will have been very active."

"And you were expelled? You went out of that house knowing what you tell me, and yet you would not speak?"

Mr. Blunt asked the question quietly, while the look in his eyes belied his manner and showed plainly that he was not a little excited.

"What else could I do, sir?" came the simple answer. "I was not absolutely sure, and even then it was not for me to clear myself at the expense of a comrade."

"Tommy rot! False pride, sir! A wrong impression of your duty to your comrades! But it was fine! Shake hands!"