"Going in to Duck Lake, I suppose?" queried the stranger.
Isaac grew very red in the face, but made no answer.
"Do you remember," continued the man, "that this boyhere"— pointing toward Tony— "lost a lot of gum last fall, and you said I stole it?"
The red in Isaac's face gave place to a deathly pallor, but no reply passed his lips.
"I don't see what use all these questions are," interrupted Mr. Furbush, testily. "My son is not a prisoner on trial."
"Well, if he isn't," replied the man, significantly, "it won't hurt him to answer a few questions. Now, young man, speak up. Didn't you circulate the story that I stole that gum?"
Isaac began to cry.
"And you did this notwithstanding the fact that I pulled you out of Duck Lake, thereby saving your life," said the stranger, severely. "Now I want to jog your memory a little and get you in the habit of telling the truth. Shall I go on?" he added, turning to Mr. Furbush.
"Oh, I suppose so," replied that individual, wearily. "Make it as short as possible."
"I stopped a few nights with you and this little chap you call Tony last fall," continued the stranger. "One night this Tony had a fine lot of gum, and he put it away careful like. I forgot my pipe one morning, and went back to the camp for it. The door was open, and I seen you taking Tony's gum out of where he put it, and I dodged behind the camp and watched you and see you take it and put it in a holler tree—a far-side of the path to the spring."