This was the worst blow of all. Lester had confessed! And since he had begun, where had he stopped? Had he told the truth concerning the adventures of the morning? Had he—and here Bob’s heart seemed to stop beating—had he told about the burning of Don Gordon’s shooting-box? As these thoughts passed through Bob’s mind his rage for the moment got the better of him. “The coward!” he exclaimed. “And I saved his life, too.”
“Well, the less you say about that, Bob, the better,” replied Mr. Owens. “Lester received his bruises by falling out of a tree.”
“How do you know?” Bob managed to ask.
“He said so.”
Bob couldn’t bear to hear another word. There was only one thing more Lester had to confess, and Bob thought he could not survive if his father should tell him of that. As he turned and hurried down the lane Mr. Owens exclaimed:
“There’s another thing, Bob. Lester made a clean breast of everything while he was about it.”
The boy quickened his pace, but could not get out of hearing of his father’s voice.
“Brigham and I are going to see the general in the morning about the burning of that little shanty over on the lake shore,” said Mr. Owens. “We don’t want any trouble about it if we can help it.”
So intense were Bob’s feelings of rage and alarm that he could scarcely breathe. Uttering a loud yell, which he could not have repressed to save his life, he broke into a run and went down the lane at the top of his speed. But fast as he went his fears kept pace with him, and somehow he could not help recalling the text from which he had heard the minister preach a few Sundays before: “Be sure your sin will find you out!”
If Bob had never believed this before he believed it now.