"No, General. It wasn't the girl, after all," said the game-keeper. "Never did seem to me as if it could be, anyhow. Here's the lad that did it all—and I caught him in the act. The feathers are all over him still."
"It wasn't me! She did it! I saw her, and I took the feathers from her," wailed Jake, anxious, as ever, to escape himself, no matter how many lies he had to tell, or who had to suffer for his sins. But the game-keeper only laughed roughly.
"That won't do you no good, my boy. You'd better own up and take your medicine. Here, see this, General."
He plunged his hands into Jake's pockets, and produced the wire and other materials Jake had used in making his snare.
"I guess that's pretty good evidence, ain't it, sir?"
"It is, indeed," said the general, grimly. "Take him up to the house, Tyler. I'll attend to his case later. Go on, now. I want to talk to this girl."
Then he turned to Bessie and took off his hat.
"I was wrong and you were right this morning," he said, pleasantly. "I want to apologize to you, Bessie. And I shall try to make up to you for having treated you so badly. How can I do that?"
"Oh, there's nothing to make up, General," said Bessie, tearfully. "I'm so glad you know I didn't do that!"
"But what are you doing here—and in that dress?"