says--"

"Never mind what your dad says, Sam. My mind's made up."

"Dan, you chump, listen to me. That notice says 'prosecuted according
to law.' Why, Danny, he'll put you in prison, or fine you, or
something dreadful."

"I can't help it if he does," said Danny stoutly. "You get out of
here, Sam French, and don't be trying to scare me. I mean to be
honest, and how can I be if I don't own up to Mr. Walters that I've
been stealing his trout all summer?"

"Stealing, fiddlesticks! Dan, I used to think you were a chap with
some sense, but I see I was mistaken. You ain't done no harm. Walters
will never miss them trout. If you're so dreadful squeamish that you
won't fish no more, why, you needn't. But just let the matter drop and
hold your tongue about it. That's _my_ advice."

"Well, it isn't my mother's, then. I mean to go by _hers_. You needn't
argue no more, Sam. I'm going."

"Go, then!" said Sam, stopping short in disgust. "You're a big fool,
Dan, and serve you right if Walters lands you off to jail; but I don't
wish you no ill. If I can do anything for your family after you're
gone, I will, and I'll try and give your remains Christian burial--if
there are any remains. So long, Danny! Give my love to old Walters!"

Dan was not greatly encouraged by this interview. He shrank more than
ever from the thought of facing the stern factory owner. His courage
had almost evaporated when he entered the office at the factory and
asked shakily for Mr. Walters.

"He's in his office there," replied the clerk, "but he's very busy.
Better leave your message with me."

"I must see Mr. Walters himself, please," said Dan firmly, but with
inward trepidation.

The clerk swung himself impatiently from his stool and ushered Dan
into Mr. Walters's private office.

"Boy to see you, sir," he said briefly, as he closed the ground-glass
door behind him.

Dan, dizzy and trembling, stood in the dreaded presence. Mr. Walters
was writing at a table covered with a businesslike litter of papers.
He laid down his pen and looked up with a frown as the clerk vanished.
He was a stern-looking man with deep-set grey eyes and a square,
clean-shaven chin. There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh on his
frame, and his voice and manner were those of the decided, resolute,
masterful man of business.

He pointed to a capacious leather chair and said concisely, "What is
your business with me, boy?"

Dan had carefully thought out a statement of f