“What did we do for kindling? Why, I forgot to say that when it first began to rain, I took out all the birch bark I had gathered on my way up, and tucked it under my shoulder; so that for the most part the inner strips were pretty dry, and sputtered cheerily when I touched them off. I believe nothing ever did me so much good as that fire. Under its influence, we were so much cheered that we actually walked out to see the sunrise, which was glorious.
“It didn’t take us long to descend that mountain, I can tell you; and we reached the Profile House in season to tell the whole story to the family (who, in truth, had slept little more than we) over the breakfast-table.”
Just as the story was completed, a rattle of wheels was heard in the driveway leading to the house. Presently a wagon drove up, containing—besides a short, thick-set man whom Randolph recognized as the sheriff, and the two young fellows who served as deputies—an Indian half covered in a blanket, a squaw, and two dignified brown pappooses. It was easy to recognize them as the Loon Pond campers.
CHAPTER III.
THE TRIAL.
IT was decided to give the Indians their dinner before examining them. Mr. Percival knew they would be more likely to tell the truth if well-treated; and all he wanted was to obtain the watch, not to punish the thieves. Accordingly they were conducted to the kitchen, and there, under charge of the sheriffs, they were provided with a bountiful meal by aunt Puss.
The captors meanwhile explained that they had found their prisoners encamped about ten miles down the road. They had been very angry at first, but the sheriff, who was really a good-natured farmer living about three miles from Mr. Percival’s place, had managed to pacify Sebattis, the father of the family, and he kept Moll in good order. They all, added Mr. Blake, the sheriff, had denied any knowledge of the watch, from first to last.
After dinner, to which the Indians did ample justice, the whole party were conducted to the sitting-room. Mr. Percival took his seat beside a table, at one end of the room, and asked Sebattis to hold up his right hand. He then administered the oath to the prisoner with a dignity and solemnity which impressed the young people, and which were specially admired by Randolph, who had several times seen the ceremony flippantly performed in the city courts.
The magistrate now proceeded with the examination.
“What is your name, sir?” he asked gravely but pleasantly.
The Indian, gratified by the title given him, answered with promptness: “Sebattis Megone.”