The raft was in condition to go down the river, though it was not yet finished. I was ready to start that very night, if necessary. I was confident that I was to be persecuted, if not prosecuted, for robbing the mail. As long as I could not explain where I obtained the money which Ham had unfortunately seen, I was not able to clear myself of the suspicion. Before I left the swamp, I concealed all my money, but a few dollars, in the hollow of a tree.
I was not afraid of the constable. I determined to go back to the house, and trust to my wits for safety. I went into the kitchen as usual, where Captain Fishley and his wife were just sitting down to supper.
"Where have you been all the afternoon?" asked he, in a milder tone than I expected to hear him use.
"Keeping out of the way of the constable," I replied.
"I don't want to call the constable for you, but I shall if you don't give up the money," added Captain Fishley.
"I haven't got it. What I said about Ham was the truth."
"The wicked wretch!" gasped Mrs. Fishley. "Why don't you send for the constable?"
Poor Flora had heard the story about me, and she trembled with apprehension. How I pitied her!
"I will hand him over to Stevens to-morrow, if he don't give up the money before that time," added the captain.
I was not permitted to go after the mail that night. The postmaster went himself, and his wife accompanied him to "do some shopping."