I felt as if stunned, and as guilty as if I had shared in the plot by which the bands had been taken away.
The men were standing about stolidly watching us. They did not complain about their work being at a stand-still, nor seem to mind that, as they were paid by the amount they did, they would come short at the end of the week: all they seemed interested in was the way in which we were going to bear the loss, or act.
“Does not look like a walk for us, Cob,” said Uncle Bob. “What a cruel shame it is!”
“Uncle,” I cried passionately, for we were alone now, “I can’t tell you how ashamed I am. It’s disgraceful. I’m not fit to be trusted. I can never forgive myself, but I did try so very very hard.”
“Try, my boy!” he said taking my hand; “why, of course, you did. I haven’t blamed you.”
“No, but I blame myself,” I cried.
“Nonsense, my boy! Let that rest.”
“But if I had kept awake I should have detected the scoundrel.”
“No, you would not, Cob, because if you had been awake he would not have come; your being asleep was his opportunity.”
“But I ought not, being on sentry, to have gone to sleep.”