"How do you know he did it?" demanded Clarence.
"I saw him do it. I saw him break the seal, take out the money, and burn the letter;" and I explained fully the circumstances. "Ham saw me counting my money, and his father wanted me to tell where I got it. I couldn't do that. They sent for a constable; but I took to the swamp. Now, I had either to tell where I got the money,—which I couldn't do,—or go to jail. Instead of doing either, I took Flora on the raft with me, and came down the river."
"This is a very strange story, Buck; and I don't much blame Captain Fishley for not believing it," said Clarence. "Somebody gave you a hundred dollars, and you would not tell who, even to save yourself from going to jail. I can't blame him."
"Nor I either, so far as that was concerned; but I do blame Ham, for he knew very well that I did not rob the mail."
"But why can't you tell who gave you the money?"
"Because I promised not to do so, and because my telling would do an injury to the person who gave it to me."
"I don't like the looks of this thing, Buck," added Clarence, shaking his head.
"I know it don't look very well," I replied, rather sheepishly, for I realized that my brother had his suspicions.
"Why should a man give you a hundred dollars?"
"Because I saved his life," I answered, desperately.