So they reached the hollow stump.
"Here's where I was camped all through the storm, and mighty lucky for you that I lost my way when out hunting. Now wait till I dig out some of that dry wood from the inside. It will make a capital start for a fire."
Jerry set to work with a vim. In five minutes he had a cheery little blaze going, and more wood drying out close beside it. From time to time other fuel was added to the fire until it reached such proportions that it eagerly devoured any sort of stuff they chose to feed it.
"This ain't half bad, because it's getting mighty cold after that storm, and if you happened to be lying drenched through under that tree I reckon you'd be shivering some by now, eh?" laughed Jerry.
Andy put out his right hand, for it was the left arm that had been injured.
"I want to tell you that I feel pretty punk now over the way I've treated your crowd, Jerry. This is mighty white in you, and that's what, to act as you have with me. I'm right sorry now I ever laid out to hurt you fellers. I ain't goin' to keep it up no longer, and that's dead certain. If Pet Peters wants to, he can go it alone. I'm all in. You've made me ashamed."
Jerry understood. There was really no need of further words. Between two boys such things are instinctively grasped; and Jerry knew what a tremendous effort it must have been for this rough fellow to frankly admit that he had been led to see the error of his ways.
Perhaps the repentance was not wholly genuine, and time would swing Andy back to his old ways; but just then, sitting by that friendly fire, he seemed to feel very warmly disposed toward the lad whose coming may have saved his life.
"Oh! that's all right; don't mention it. Glad to know you mean to let us alone. It's all we ask, anyway. But what brought you away up here, Andy?" said Jerry.
Andy dropped his head and gazed into the fire. The other even thought he could see what looked like a blush mantle his cheeks, though the chums of the town bully would have shouted at the very idea of such a thing.