until the little woman
said, in a tone of reproof:

"Joseph, that poor man may be dying, and by your hand, while you are
making merry. Where is he?"

Joe stifled his mirth as best he could, and, taking the lamp, and the
tender-hearted little woman's hand, led the way towards the shed door,
as he replied:

"I'll show him to you, aunt Dorcas, an' then if you want to tie a rag
'round his throat, or put a plaster on his head, you can."

But Joe did not make as thorough an exhibition of his burglar as he had
anticipated.

The man had regained consciousness, and all aunt Dorcas saw of the
intruder was a dark form which ran past her into the kitchen, and from
there leaped through the open window.

Joe could not have stopped the burglar if he wished, so sudden and
unexpected had been the fellow's movements; but he was deeply chagrined
that his enemy should thus have escaped so readily.

"He's gone, an' I ought'er be kicked for standin' here chinnin' with
you, as if he'd wait till I got ready to tie him up!"

"We should be thankful to him for going without making any more of a
disturbance. I'm relieved to know he wasn't seriously hurt, and--How
wicked I am to stand here talking about anything, when your wounds
should be attended to! It's a mercy you haven't bled to death long
before this."

"There's no danger of anything of that kind, aunt Dorcas, and if you'll
go right back to bed, I'll tend to myself in great shape. There's no
need of your fussin' 'round."

"You must believe me a perfect wretch if you think I could leave you in
such a condition. But, Joseph, I would like to go back and dress myself
properly."

"There's no reason why you shouldn't leave me till mornin' jest as well
as not, so go ahead, aunt Dorcas, an' do whatever you please."

[Illustration: "A DARK FORM LEAPED THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW."]

"Sit down here by the table, where you will have something on which to
rest your head if you grow faint, and I'll be back in a moment."

Aunt Dorcas closed the kitchen door, lest a draft of air should come
upon the boy she believed so grievously wounded, and went to her own
room, Joe saying to himself, meanwhile:

"I'd been willin' for him to have pounded me into shoestrings, if it
would save me from havin' to tell a woman as good as she is that I ran
away from New York to keep out of jail."

CHAPTER XIII.

A CONFESSION.

It seemed to Joe as if aunt Dorcas had but just left the room when she