It was a long story, but Tom managed to tell it. At the very first, he spoke with a shudder of the Indian, and Mr. Percival despatched Ruel and Tim to the woods, rightly judging that the pursuit of Tom had ceased. The men returned within a few minutes and reported that Sebattis had been seen limping away toward the road, covered with mud. He had turned and shaken his fist at them, but on the whole seemed more frightened than angry, and mainly anxious to get as far away from the farm as possible.
“And now about the watch,” said Mr. Percival gravely, but kindly, as soon as the farm-hands had left the room.
Tom hung his head still lower, but launched manfully into his confession.
“I took it out of Pet’s pocket for fun,” he said, “very soon after we started on our walk, that morning. Then I tucked it into Kitty’s sacque, with the chain hanging out.”
“Where Moll saw it!” exclaimed Mr. Percival, a light breaking in on him.
“Yes, sir, I suppose so. After that, we came to the Indians, and Pet fell into the pond, and I forgot all about it. Just as I was going to bed, I heard the girls say something about a watch being lost, and it came to me that it was my fault. I felt awfully about it that night, and hardly slept a bit. Next morning I tried to get a chance to tell you about it—do you remember, sir? but you were busy; and instead of making you hear, or owning up at once, about my carelessness and foolish trick, I thought I would put it off; perhaps the watch would be found; perhaps the Indians took it, after all.”
“But why didn’t you tell me frankly, that afternoon, my boy?”
“I was ashamed to; and after the trial, it was all the harder. Then—I found the watch! It was tucked into an old stump, near the spot where the Indian babies, the little pappooses, had been playing. I suppose one of them had picked it up and hidden it there.
“Now was the time, I know, sir, when I ought to have told. But every minute made it harder. I was afraid Randolph would be ashamed of me, and the girls wouldn’t like me, and you would be angry for all the trouble I had made, and the expense of the sheriffs and everything. Besides,” continued the boy eagerly, “really and truly, sir, I did mean, every day, to give the watch back—every day. But—somehow—it grew harder and harder, and I didn’t. It began to seem now as if I had stolen it!”
It was a poor, miserable story of a weak boy’s foolishness; for Tom was weak, and cowardly, too. A little manliness at the start would have prevented all the shame and wretchedness.