them rushing down to see it? And if it was so talked of,
would it not be certain to come to the ears of that awful man? And if
so, how long before he found me out, and sent me to rejoin my family?

These thoughts compelled me to be more discreet; and having lately
done a most honorable thing, in refusing to read that letter, I felt a
certain right to play a little trick now of a purely harmless character.
I ran back therefore to my writing-desk, and took from its secret drawer
a beautiful golden American eagle, a large coin, larger and handsomer
than any in the English coinage. Uncle Sam gave it to me on my birthday,
and I would not have taken 50 pounds for it. With this I hurried to that
bridge of fear, which I had not yet brought myself to go across; and
then, not to tell any story about it, I snipped a little hole in the
corner of my pocket, while my hand was still steady ere I had to mount
the bridge. Then pinching that hole up with a squeeze, I ran and got
upon that wicked bridge, and then let go. The heavy gold coin fell upon
the rotten plank, and happily rolled into the water, as if it were glad
not to tempt its makers to any more sin for the sake of it.

Shutting up thought, for fear of despising myself for the coinage of
such a little trick, I hurried across the long meadow to the mill, and
went through the cow-gate into the yard, and the dog began to bark at
me. Seeing that he had a strong chain on, I regarded him with lofty
indignation. "Do you know what Jowler would do to you?" I said; "Jowler,
a dog worth ten of you. He would take you by the neck and drop you into
that pond for daring to insult his mistress!" The dog appeared to feel
the force of my remarks, for he lay down again, and with one eye watched
me in a manner amusing, but insidious. Then, taking good care to keep
out of his reach, I went to the mill-pond and examined it.

It looked like a very nice pond indeed, long, and large, and well banked
up, not made into any particular shape, but producing little rushy
elbows. The water was now rather low, and very bright (though the Moon
itself is not a crystal stream), and a school of young minnows, just
watching a water-spider with desirous awe, at sight of me broke away,
and reunited, with a speed and precision that might shame the whole of
our very best modern fighting. Then many other things made a dart away,
and furrowed the shadow of the willows, till distance quieted the fear
of man--that most m