Anyone found fishing on my pond at Carleton after date will be
prosecuted according to law, without respect of persons.
June First. H.C. Walters.
"Oh, Danny, what does it mean?"
Dan went and carefully closed the door of Ella May's room before he
replied. His face was pale and his voice shaky.
"Mean? Well, Mother, it just means that I've been stealing Mr.
Walters's trout all summer--_stealing_ them. That's what it means."
"Oh, Danny! But you didn't know."
"No, but I ought to have remembered that he was the new owner, and
have asked him. I never thought. Mother, what does 'prosecuted
according to law' mean?"
"I don't know, I'm sure, Danny. But if this is so, there's only one
thing to be done. You must go straight to Mr. Walters and tell him all
about it."
"Mother, I don't dare to. He is a dreadfully hard man. Sam French's
father says--"
"I wouldn't believe a word Sam French's father says about Mr.
Walters!" said Mrs. Phillips firmly. "He's got a spite against him
because he was dismissed. Besides, Danny, it's the only right thing to
do. You know that. We're poor, but we have never done anything
underhand yet."
"Yes, Mother, I know," said Dan, gulping his fear bravely down. "I'll
go, of course, right after dinner. I was only scared at first. I'll
tell you what I'll do. I'll clean these trout nicely and take them to
Mr. Walters, and tell him that, if he'll only give me time, I'll pay
him back every cent of money I got for all I sold this summer. Then
maybe he'll let me off, seeing as I didn't know about the notice."
"I'll go with you, Danny."
"No, I'll go alone, Mother. You needn't go with me," said Dan
heroically. To himself he said that his mother had troubles enough. He
would never subject her to the added ordeal of an interview with the
stern factory owner. He would beard the lion in his den himself, if it
had to be done.
"Don't tell Ella May anything about it. It would worry her. And don't
cry, Mother, I guess it'll be all right. Let me have my dinner now and
I'll go straight off."
Dan ate his dinner rapidly; then he carefully cleaned his trout, put
them in a long basket, with rhubarb leaves over them, and started with
an assumed cheerfulness very far from his real feelings.
He had barely passed the gate when another boy came shuffling along--a
tall, raw-boned lad, with an insinuating smile and shifty, cunning
eyes. The newcomer nodded familiarly to Dan.
"Hello, sonny. Going over to the Lake with your catch, are you? You'll
fry up before you get there. There'll be nothing left of you but a
crisp."
"No, I'm not going to the Lake. I'm going up to the factory to see Mr.
Walters."
Sam French gave a long whistle of surprise.
"Why, Dan, what's taking you there? You surely ain't thinking of
trying for that place, are you? Walters wouldn't look at you. Why, he
wouldn't take _me_! You haven't the ghost of a chance."
"No, I'm not going for that. Sam, did you know that Mr. Walters had a
notice in the Lake _Advertiser_ that nobody could fish in his pond
this summer?"
"Course I did--the old skinflint! He's too mean to live, that's what.
He never goes near the pond himself. Regular dog in the manger, he is.
Dad says--"
"Sam, why didn't you tell me about that notice?"
"Gracious, didn't you know? I s'posed everybody did, and here I've
been taking you for the cutest chap this side of sunset--fishing away
up in that creek where no one could see you, and cutting home through
the woods on the sly. You don't mean to tell me you never saw that
notice?"
"No, I didn't. Do you think I'd have gone near the pond if I had? I
never saw it till today, and I'm going straight to Mr. Walters now to
tell him about it."
Sam French stopped short in the dusty road and stared at Dan in
undisguised amazement.
"Dan Phillips," he ejaculated, "have you plum gone out of your mind?
Boy alive, you needn't be afraid that I'd peach on you. I'm too blamed
glad to see anyone get the better of that old Walters, smart as he
thinks himself. Gee! To dream of going to him and telling him you've
been fishing in his pond! Why, he'll put you in jail. You don't know
what sort of a man he is. Dad 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 facts beforehand, but
every word had vanished from his memory. He had only a confused,
desperate consciousness that he had a theft to confess and that it
must be done as soon as possible. He did not sit down.
"Please, Mr. Walters," he began desperately, "I came to tell you--your
notice--I never saw it before--and I've been fishing on your pond all
summer--but I didn't know--honest--I've brought you all I caught
today--and I'll pay back for them all--some time."
An amused, puzzled expression crossed Mr. Walters's noncommittal face.
He pushed the leather chair forward.
"Sit down, my boy," he said kindly. "I don't quite understand this
somewhat mixed-up statement of yours. You've been fishing on my pond,
you say. Didn't you see my notice in the _Advertiser_?"
Dan sat down more composedly. The revelation was over and he was still
alive.
"No, sir. We hardly ever see an _Advertiser_, and nobody told me. I'd
always been used to fishing there, and I never thought but what it was
all right to keep on. I know I ought to have remembered and asked you,
but truly, sir, I didn't mean to steal your fish. I used to sell them
over at the hotels. We saw the notice today, Mother and me, and I came
right up. I've brought you the trout I caught this morning, and--if
only you won't prosecute me, sir, I'll pay back every cent I got for
the others--every cent, sir--if you'll give me time."
Mr. Walters passed his hand across his mouth to conceal something like
a smile.
"Your name is Dan Phillips, isn't it?" he said irrelevantly, "and you
live with your mother, the Widow Phillips, down there at Carleton
Corners, I understand."
"Yes, sir," said Dan, wondering how Mr. Walters knew so much about
him, and if these were the preliminaries of prosecution.
Mr. Walters took up his pen and drew a blank sheet towards him.
"Well, Dan, I put that notice in because I found that many people who
used to fish on my pond, irrespective of leave or licence, were
accustomed to lunch or camp on my property, and did not a little
damage. I don't care for trouting myself; I've no time for it.
However, I hardly think you'll do much damage. You can keep on
fishing there. I'll give you a written permission, so that if any of
my men see you they won't interfere with you. As for these trout here,
I'll buy them from you at Mosquito Lake prices, and will say no more
about the matter. How will that do?"
"Thank you, sir," stammered Dan. He could hardly believe his ears. He
took the slip of paper Mr. Walters handed to him and rose to his feet.
"Wait a minute, Dan. How was it you came to tell me this? You might
have stopped your depredations, and I should not have been any the
wiser."
"That wouldn't have been honest, sir," said Dan, looking squarely at
him.
There was a brief silence. Mr. Walters thrummed meditatively on the
table. Dan waited wonderingly.
Finally the factory owner said abruptly, "There's a vacant place for a
boy down here. I want it filled as soon as possible. Will you take
it?"
"Mr. Walters! _Me!_" Dan thought the world must be turning upside
down.
"Yes, you. You are rather young, but the duties are not hard or
difficult to learn. I think you'll do. I was resolved not to fill that
place until I could find a perfectly honest and trustworthy boy for
it. I believe I have found him. I discharged the last boy because he
lied to me about some trifling offence for which I would have forgiven
him if he had told the truth. I can bear with incompetency, but
falsehood and deceit I cannot and will not tolerate," he said, so
sternly that Dan's face paled. "I am convinced that you are incapable
of either. Will you take the place, Dan?"
"I will if you think I can fill it, sir. I will do my best."
"Yes, I believe you will. Perhaps I know more about you than you
think. Businessmen must keep their eyes open. We'll regard this matter
as settled then. Come up tomorrow at eight o'clock. And one word more,
Dan. You have perhaps heard that I am an unjust and hard master. I am
not the former, and you will never have occasion to find me the latter
if you are always as truthful and straightforward as you have been
today. You might easily have deceived me in this matter. That you did
not do so is the best and only recommendation I require. Take those
trout up to my house and leave them. That will do. Good afternoon."
Dan somehow got his dazed self through the glass door and out of the
building. The whole interview had been such a surprise to him that he
was hardly sure whether or not he had dreamed it all.
"I feel as if I were some person else," he said to himself, as he
started down the hot white road. "But Mother was right. I'll stick to
her motto. I wonder what Sam will say to this."