HING became a little
tedious. There was a "splendid" game of base ball to come off on the
public green that afternoon; and after that the boys were going to the
"Shaw-seen" for a swim; then there was to be a picnic on the "Indian
Ridge," and--well, Fred had thought of all these losses when he so
pleasantly assented to his father's request, and he was not going to
complain now. He sat down on a box, and commenced drumming tunes with
his heels on its sides. This disturbed Mr. Stone. He looked at him
sharply, so he stopped and sauntered out into a corner of the back
store, where there was a trap-door leading down into the water. A small
river ran by under the end of the store, also by the depot, which was
near at hand, and his father used to have some of his goods brought down
in boats and hoisted up through this door.

It was always one of the most interesting places in the store to Fred;
he liked to sit with his feet hanging down over the water, watching it
as it came in and dashed against the cellar walls.

To-day it was high, and a smart breeze drove it in with unusual force.
Bending down as far as he could safely to look under the store, Fred
saw the end of a hatchet sticking out from the corner of one of the
abutments that projected from the cellar, to support the end of the
store in which the trap-door was.

"What a curious place this is for a hatchet!" thought Fred, as he
stooped a little further, holding on very tight to the floor above.
What he saw made him almost lose his hold and drop into the water below.
There, stretched along on a beam was Sam Crandon, with some stolen
packages near him.

For a moment Fred's astonishment was too great to allow him to speak;
and Sam glared at him like a wild beast brought suddenly to bay.

"Oh, Sam! Sam!" said Fred, at length, "how could you?"

Sam caught up a hatchet and looked as if he was going to aim it at him,
then suddenly dropped it into the water.

Fred's heart beat fast, and the blood came and went from his cheeks; he
caught his breath heavily, and the water, the abutment and even Sam
with his wicked ugly face were for a moment darkened. Then, recovering
himself, he said:

"Was it you, Sam? I'm sorry for you!"

"Don't lie!" said Sam, glowering back, "you know you're glad!"

"Glad? Why should I be glad to have you steal?"

"Cause I licked you, and you caught it."

"So I did; but I am sorry, for all that."

"You lie!"

Fred had thought very fast while