Our fellows all ate supper at our house that night, and a happier party than that which sat at our table was never seen anywhere.

Mark was the hero of the evening, and after he had entertained us with a glowing description of his adventure with the Indians, we related to him the exciting and amusing incidents that had happened during our deer hunt.

Duke, Herbert and Sandy started for home shortly after dark, and Mark and I went up to headquarters and prepared to pass the evening with our books. We intended to go back to school in the spring, and as we were too ambitious to fall behind our classes, we made it a point to devote a portion of each day to good hard study. I picked up my philosophy; while Mark settled into a comfortable position 45in his easy-chair, thrust his slippered feet out toward the fire, and soon became deeply interested in a problem in quadratic equations.

The hours flew rapidly by, and it was nine o’clock almost before we knew it. By that time Mark had found a problem that brought him to a standstill, and resorting to his usual method of stimulating his ideas, he picked up his guitar and cleared his throat preparatory to treating me to his favorite song, “The Hunter’s Chorus,” which I had heard so often that I was heartily tired of it.

Just then the hounds in the yard set up a loud baying. We heard the bars rattle, and then came the clatter of horses’ hoofs and loud voices at the door. Heavy steps sounded in the hall and ascended the stairs. A moment afterward the door opened and Sandy Todd came in, his clothes all splashed with mud, and his usually red face pale with excitement or anger, we could not tell which.

“What’s up?” we asked, in concert.

“I reckon I might as well tell you to onct,” answered Sandy, “’cause you never could guess it. Jerry Lamar is in jail.”

46“In jail!” we echoed. “What for?”

“He is charged with stealin’ eight thousand dollars from General Mason,” was the reply.

I must stop here long enough to tell you something about Jerry Lamar, because he had considerable to do with the adventures that befell us during the winter. He lived about six miles from our house, on the banks of Black Bayou. His parents were poor, and Jerry and his father were lumbermen. They cut logs in the swamp, made them into rafts, and when the freshets came, floated them out to the river and down to New Orleans, where they sold them.

The timber they cut was all on our plantation, and father had so much confidence in their honesty that he never measured the rafts when they came out, but accepted the money Mr. Lamar offered him without asking any questions.

Jerry was one of the best boys I ever knew. Honest, good-natured and accommodating, he was beloved by every body (except old General Mason, who cared for no one but himself and his graceless nephew), and he would have been 47one of our fellows if he could have found time to accompany us on our expeditions; but he was too poor to own a horse or gun, and was obliged to work steadily from one year’s end to another. He was ambitious and tried hard to better his condition, but somehow he always had bad luck.

General Mason (I do not know why people called him “General,” unless it was because he had plenty of money, for he never held a military commission in his life) was continually getting himself or somebody else into trouble.

He had long shown a disposition to persecute Mr. Lamar, because the latter refused to buy his timber in the swamps at double its value, and Mark and I had no hesitation in affirming that he had brought this charge against Jerry to be revenged on his father.

“I don’t believe a word of it,” said I.

“Any one who knows Jerry Lamar would never suspect him of such a thing,” chimed in Mark.

“I am sorry to say, fellers, that thar’s no mistake about it—that is, as fur as his bein’ in 48jail is consarned, ’cause my father seed him when he was goin’ in. He’s down stairs now, pap is, talkin’ to your folks about goin’ Jerry’s bail.”

“Is there nothing we can do for him?” I asked.

“We can at least go down and see him, and assure him of our sympathy,” said Mark.

“That’s jest what I thought,” replied Sandy. “I will ride over arter Duke and Herbert, and by the time I get back you can be ready.”

Sandy lumbered off down stairs, and Mark and I pulled on our boots and hurried after him. We stopped in the sitting-room for a few minutes to hear what Mr. Todd had to say about it, and when we saw father preparing to accompany him to town, we ran out to the barn to saddle our horses.

In about a quarter of an hour Sandy came back with Duke and Herbert, and we all set out for Burton (that was the name of the village in which the jail was situated), galloping along the road at break-neck speed, and spattering the mud in every direction.

When he had gone about a mile and a half, 49we suddenly discovered a horseman in the road in advance of us, whose actions we thought indicated a desire to avoid us, for he turned off the road into the bushes.

“That fellow, whoever he is, has been doing something mean,” said Duke, jumping his horse across the ditch beside the road and riding toward the place where the stranger was concealed. “An honest man wouldn’t sneak off into the woods and hide that way. Hallo, there! Come out and show yourself!”

“Is that you, boys?” asked a trembling voice in the bushes.

“Oh, it’s that Tom Mason!” said Mark, contemptuously. “What trick are you up to now? You have been about some under-handed business, or you wouldn’t be afraid of us.”

“I haven’t been up to any trick; I haven’t, honor bright,” declared Tom, with more earnestness than we thought the occasion demanded. “I didn’t know who it was coming down the road at that reckless pace. Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“To town, to see Jerry,” replied Duke.

50“You are! I wouldn’t go near him if I were you. He’s a thief!”

As Tom said this he came out into the road, and we saw that his face was deathly pale, and that he was trembling all over, as if he had been seized with an attack of the ague.

If we had known what Tom had passed through during the last few hours, perhaps we should not have been so surprised at the sight. Had we been in his situation, it is probable that we would have been frightened, too.

Tom Mason was the nephew and ward of the richest man in that part of Mississippi, and the most unpopular boy in the settlement. He was so overbearing, and so dishonest and untruthful, that no one who had the least respect for himself could associate with him.

He cordially hated our fellows, because we would not invite him to accompany us on our hunting and fishing excursions, and never allowed an opportunity to do us an injury to pass unimproved. I shall have more to say about him presently.

“You fellows act as though you thought yourselves something grand,” continued Tom, 51“and I supposed you were above associating with a thief.”

“Now, I’ll tell you what’s the truth,” said Sandy, shutting one eye and wrinkling up his nose, as he always did when he was very much in earnest, “Jerry ain’t no more of a thief than I be.”

“He is in jail, isn’t he?” demanded Tom. “That is enough to disgrace him forever. Those who visit him and sympathize with him are no better than he is.”

“Thar ain’t no disgrace whar thar ain’t no guilt,” replied Sandy, half inclined to get angry. “An’ another thing, what’s the use of a fellow’s havin’ friends if they go back on him the minute he gets into trouble? Jerry will find that we’ll stick to him now same as we did afore. Now I’ll tell you what’s the truth, Tom Mason: He don’t know no more about them thar eight thousand dollars than you do.”

“Nor half as much,” said Mark, decidedly. “Fellows,” he added, as we left Tom and went clattering down the road again, “if the general has really lost any money, that boy knows where it is.”

52We reached the village in a few minutes, and without any delay were conducted to the cell in which Jerry was confined.

I shall never forget the thrill of horror that ran through me as the heavy iron door clanged behind us, or the despairing, woe-begone expression on the face of the prisoner. A few hours had made a great change in that jolly, wide-awake boy. He sat on his narrow bed with his face hidden in his hands, and when he looked up, I saw that his eyes were red and swollen with weeping.

“I little thought I should ever come to this,” said Jerry, in a husky voice; “and I never expected to see you here, either.”

“When a fellow is in trouble he wants friends, doesn’t he?” asked Duke. “Have you had any examination yet?”

“I have been before the squire, if that is what you mean, and have been sent here in default of bail—sixteen thousand dollars. The squire might as well have said a million.”

“No, I reckon not,” said Sandy. “Mr. Coleman an’ Mr. Dickson an’ my father can raise sixteen thousand dollars, I think, but it 53might bother ’em some to find a million. Now, I’ll tell you what’s the truth, Jeremiah Lamar, did you steal them thar eight thousand from General Mason?”

“No, I never saw the money.”

“How in the world did you manage to get into this miserable scrape?” asked Duke.

Jerry wiped his eyes and settled back on his elbow, while we disposed of ourselves in various attitudes about the cell and waited for him to begin the story.