fun, without offering to join in it, and as he stood there Jack took
his turn. He had unfortunately chosen too large a tree; for when he
swung off, it only bent a little way, and left him hanging at a
dangerous height.
“Go back; you can’t do it!” called Ned from below.
Jack tried, but the twigs slipped from his hands, and he could not
get his legs round the trunk. He kicked, and squirmed, and
clutched in vain, then gave it up, and hung breathless, saying
helplessly,
“Catch me! help me! I must drop!”
“You’ll be killed if you do,” cried Ned, frightened out of his wits.
“Hold on!” shouted Dan; and up the tree he went, crashing his way
along till he nearly reached Jack, whose face looked up at him, full
of fear and hope.
“You’ll both come down,” said Ned, dancing with excitement on
the slope underneath, while Nat held out his arms, in the wild hope
of breaking the fall.
“That’s what I want; stand from under,” answered Dan, coolly; and,
as he spoke, his added weight bent the tree many feet nearer the
earth.
Jack dropped safely; but the birch, lightened of half its load, flew
up again so suddenly, that Dan, in the act of swinging round to
drop feet foremost, lost his hold and fell heavily.
“I’m not hurt, all right in a minute,” he said, sitting up, a little pale
and dizzy, as the boys gathered round him, full of admiration and
alarm.
“You’re a trump, Dan, and I’m ever so much obliged to you,” cried
Jack, gratefully.
“It wasn’t any thing,” muttered Dan, rising slowly.
“I say it was, and I’ll shake hands with you, though you are ,” Ned
checked the unlucky word on his tongue, and held out his hand,
feeling that it was a handsome thing on his part.
“But I won’t shake hands with a sneak;” and Dan turned his back
with a look of scorn, that caused Ned to remember the brook, and
retire with undignified haste.
“Come home, old chap; I’ll give you a lift;” and Nat walked away
with him leaving the others to talk over the feat together, to
wonder when Dan would “come round,” and to wish one and all
that Tommy’s “confounded money had been in Jericho before it
made such a fuss.”
When Mr. Bhaer came into school next morning, he looked so
happy, that the boys wondered what had happened to him, and
really thought he had lost his mind when they saw him go straight
to Dan, and, taking him by both hands, say all in one breath, as he
shook them heartily,
“I know all about it, and I beg your pardon. It was like you to do it,
and I love you for it, though it’s never right to tell lies, even for a
friend.”
“What is it?” cried Nat, for Dan said not a word, only lifted up his
head, as if a weight of some sort had fallen off his back.
“Dan did not take Tommy’s money;” and Mr. Bhaer quite shouted
it, he was so glad.
“Who did?” cried the boys in a chorus.
Mr. Bhaer pointed to one empty seat, and every eye followed his
finger, yet no one spoke for a minute, they were so surprised.
“Jack went home early this morning, but he left this behind him;”
and in the silence Mr. Bhaer read the note which he had found tied
to his door-handle when he rose.
“I took Tommy’s dollar. I was peeking in through a crack and saw
him put it there. I was afraid to tell before, though I wanted to. I
didn’t care so much about Nat, but Dan is a trump, and I can’t stand
it any longer. I never spent the money; it’s under the carpet in my
room, right behind the washstand. I’m awful sorry. I am going
home, and don’t think I shall ever come back, so Dan may have my
things.
“JACK”
It was not an elegant confession, being badly written, much
blotted, and very short; but it was a precious paper to Dan; and,
when Mr. Bhaer paused, the boy went to him, saying, in a rather