"I fell off," blubbered Sam.
"You incorrigible, lying rascal!" ejaculated Chester. "Why didn't you say so last night?"
"I couldn't help it," and Sam wiped his face with his sleeve. "I didn't run him—and—and he got frightened."
"That has nothing to do with the question. Why didn't you tell the truth, the first thing?"
"Cause—I wasn't looking out-and he was going on a slow trot—when a stump by the side of the road scar'd him—and I fell off."
"But what did you lie about it for?" demanded Chester, fiercely.
"I was afraid I'd git a licking," muttered Sam.
"And now you'll get two of 'em, as you richly deserve. If father don't give 'em to you, I will."
"Hush, Chester, I'll attend to him," said Mr. Royden, more calm than usual on such occasions. "James, put the saddle on Old Boy. One of us must ride after the stray horse, and see where he is to be found. Sam, go and finish that churning, and prepare for a settlement."
With a sinking heart, the rogue obeyed. Mark went off, leading his colt; Chester rode to hunt up Frank; Mr. Royden proceeded to the field, and Father Brighthopes sought the privacy of his room to write. The boys clamored a little while at his door, then went cheerfully away to play with Lizzie in the garden.