If the other heard his footfalls he gave no evidence of the fact save perhaps a twitching of his free hand which lay on his knee. Elmer was approaching from the rear. He hardly knew what he meant to do except to come in personal contact with his chum. In times of trouble the touch of a friendly hand may mean everything to the one in mental distress, bringing fresh hope, and a renewal of the courage necessary to grapple with difficulties.
So, reaching the other, Elmer put his hand on his drooping shoulder.
“Amos, can I help you in any way, old fellow?”
The words were boylike, but sincere, as though they welled straight up from the heart of the speaker. They acted like a spur upon the quivering lad, who sprang to his feet wildly, and clutching Elmer’s ready hand squeezed it convulsively as he exclaimed in a voice broken with emotion:
“Oh! Elmer I just can’t stand it alone any longer! I didn’t want to tell a living soul, but it’s too much for me, yes, far too much! And I’ve made up my mind to explain what all this mystery means about that queer knife. Elmer, it once belonged to—my own father, who’s been away for seven years, and all of us have believed him to be dead.”
CHAPTER XI
CLEARING SKIES
Elmer continued to hold the other’s quivering hand firmly in his clasp.
“Try to control your feelings as much as you can, Amos, old boy,” he went on saying in his comforting fashion. “And don’t tell me anything that you may regret. You can depend on it, though, that I’ll respect your confidence, and not even mention it to Perk and Wee Willie, without your permission.”
“Oh! but I want them to know all about it too!” said Amos, looking up, and winking his eyes violently, “because it’s only right. I hope, ever so much, that you won’t despise me for s-s-sailing under f-f-false colors, that’s all.”
“It’s nothing you have done, I’m sure of that, Amos,” said the staunch chum, resolutely, “and that’s all we count. You’re not to be held responsible for the actions of some one else. Now, go on and tell me what you think best.”