“What become of the grip-sacks when you run onto the snag an’ spilled ’em out?” asked Matt.
“They hung fast to ’em an’ took ’em ashore an’ into the woods where I didn’t see ’em no more.”
“How much did you get for takin’ the robbers over the lake?”
“Jest five dollars; an’ there it is,” said Jake, who knew that the money would have to be produced sooner or later.
“Now jest look at the fule!” shouted Matt, going off into a sudden paroxysm of rage. “Five dollars, an’ them with six thousand stolen dollars into their grip-sacks! Jake, I’ve the best notion in the world to cut me a hickory an’ wear it out over your back.”
Jake began to look wild. When his father talked that way things were getting serious.
“Hold on a minute, pap,” he protested, as Matt pulled his knife from his pocket and started toward the bushes. “How was I goin’ to know that they had all that money an’ that it was stole from the bank? If I had knowed it, I would a taxed ’em a hundred dollars, sure; but I thought they had clothes an’ things in them grip-sacks.”
Matt paused, reflected a moment, and then shut up his knife and put it into his pocket.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you had made five dollars by takin’ ’em over ’stead of sayin’ that you hadn’t never seed ’em?” he demanded.
“’Cause I wanted to keep the money to get me some shoes,” answered Jake, telling the truth this time. “Winter’s comin’ on, an’ I don’t want to go around with my feet in the snow, like I done last year. I’ll give you half, pap, an’ then you can get some shoes for yourself.”