high as Daisy’s, and, in his own rough way, he lived up to it as
loyally.
Sitting by the brook one afternoon, absorbed in the study of the
domestic habits of water-spiders, he overheard a bit of
conversation on the other side of the wall. Ned, who was intensely
inquisitive, had been on tenterhooks to know certainly who was
the culprit; for of late one or two of the boys had begun to think
that they were wrong, Nat was so steadfast in his denials, and so
meek in his endurance of their neglect. This doubt had teased Ned
past bearing, and he had several times privately beset Nat with
questions, regardless of Mr. Bhaer’s express command. Finding
Nat reading alone on the shady side of the wall, Ned could not
resist stopping for a nibble at the forbidden subject. He had
worried Nat for some ten minutes before Dan arrived, and the first
words the spider-student heard were these, in Nat’s patient,
pleading voice,
“Don’t, Ned! oh, don’t! I can’t tell you because I don’t know, and it’s
mean of you to keep nagging at me on the sly, when Father Bhaer
told you not to plague me. You wouldn’t dare to if Dan was round.”
“I ain’t afraid of Dan; he’s nothing but an old bully. Don’t believe
but what he took Tom’s money, and you know it, and won’t tell.
Come, now!”
“He didn’t, but, if he did, I would stand up for him, he has always
been so good to me,” said Nat, so earnestly that Dan forgot his
spiders, and rose quickly to thank him, but Ned’s next words
arrested him.
“I know Dan did it, and gave the money to you. Shouldn’t wonder
if he got his living picking pockets before he came here, for
nobody knows any thing about him but you,” said Ned, not
believing his own words, but hoping to get the truth out of Nat by
making him angry.
He succeeded in a part of his ungenerous wish, for Nat cried out,
fiercely,
“If you say that again I’ll go and tell Mr. Bhaer all about it. I don’t
want to tell tales, but, by George! I will, if you don’t let Dan
alone.”
“Then you’ll be a sneak, as well as a liar and a thief,” began Ned,
with a jeer, for Nat had borne insult to himself so meekly, the
other did not believe he would dare to face the master just to stand
up for Dan.
What he might have added I cannot tell, for the words were hardly
out of his mouth when a long arm from behind took him by the
collar, and, jerking him over the wall in a most promiscuous way,
landed him with a splash in the middle of the brook.
“Say that again and I’ll duck you till you can’t see!” cried Dan,
looking like a modern Colossus of Rhodes as he stood, with a foot
on either side of the narrow stream, glaring down at the
discomfited youth in the water.
“I was only in fun,” said Ned.
“You are a sneak yourself to badger Nat round the corner. Let me
catch you at it again, and I’ll souse you in the river next time. Get
up, and clear out!” thundered Dan, in a rage.
Ned fled, dripping, and his impromptu sitz-bath evidently did him
good, for he was very respectful to both the boys after that, and
seemed to have left his curiosity in the brook. As he vanished Dan
jumped over the wall, and found Nat lying, as if quite worn out
and bowed down with his troubles.
“He won’t pester you again, I guess. If he does, just tell me, and I’ll
see to him,” said Dan, trying to cool down.
“I don’t mind what he says about me so much, I’ve got used to it,”
answered Nat sadly; “but I hate to have him pitch into you.”
“How do you know he isn’t right?” asked Dan, turning his face
away.
“What, about the money?” cried Nat, looking up with a startled air.
“Yes.”
“But I don’t believe it! You don’t care for money; all you want is