that seemed to Tom and me to have certain
elements of gravity being, "By's will be by's!" The final ironical touch
was given the anti-climax when our rescuer turned out to be the mother
of the chief of the head-hunters himself! He had lingered perforce with
his brothers and sister outside the cabin until dinner time, and when he
came in he was meek as Moses.

Thus the ready hospitality of the poor, which passed over the heads
of Tom and me as we ate bread and onions and potatoes with a ravenous
hunger. It must have been about two o'clock in the afternoon when we
bade good-bye to our preserver and departed for home....

At first we went at a dog-trot, but presently slowed down to discuss the
future looming portentously ahead of us. Since entire concealment was
now impossible, the question was,--how complete a confession would be
necessary? Our cases, indeed, were dissimilar, and Tom's incentive to
hold back the facts was not nearly so great as mine. It sometimes seemed
to me in those days unjust that the Peterses were able on the whole
to keep out of criminal difficulties, in which I was more or less
continuously involved: for it did not strike me that their sins were not
those of the imagination. The method of Tom's father was the slipper. He
and Tom understood each other, while between my father and myself was a
great gulf fixed. Not that Tom yearned for the slipper; but he regarded
its occasional applications as being as inevitable as changes in the
weather; lying did not come easily to him, and left to himself he much
preferred to confess and have the matter over with. I have already
suggested that I had cultivated lying, that weapon of the weaker party,
in some degree, at least, in self-defence.

Tom was loyal. Moreover, my conviction would probably deprive him
for six whole afternoons of my company, on which he was more or less
dependent. But the defence of this case presented unusual difficulties,
and we stopped several times to thrash them out. We had been absent from
dinner, and doubtless by this time Julia had informed Tom's mother of
the expedition, and anyone could see that our clothing had been wet. So
I lingered in no little anxiety behind the Peters stable while he made
the investigation. Our spirits rose considerably when he returned to
report that Julia had unexpectedly been a trump, having quieted his
mother by the surmise that he was spending the day with his Aunt Fanny.
So far, so good. The problem