"So the boys run away, did they?" he inquired, grimly.
"Yes, sir."
"And I s'pose you'd have run away, too, if you had done it, hey?"
"Perhaps I might," answered John, ingenuously. "I s'pose they were scared."
"I'll scare 'em," growled the deacon. "Squire Collins is able to make up the loss to me, and I mean he shall." Then, with a momentary suspicion, "This ain't a story you an' Mark have got up between you, to get him off, is it?"
"I will answer that, Deacon Miller," said Mark firmly. "If I had shot your cow, I wouldn't have run away, but I'd have gone right to you and told you about it, and I'd have paid you just as soon as I could."
"That's right, that's right," said the deacon, approvingly, beginning to regard Mark with more favor. "Well, I must go and see the squire. Here, you John Downie, come along with me."
"I've got to go home," said John.
"But I can't prove it without you."
"You can tell the squire that I saw it done, and am ready to swear to it, if he wants me to."