Captain Sam | Page 8

and he knew how to exercise authority, even when it was held by so loose a
tenure as that of mere agreement among a lot of boys.
We now come back to the drift-pile. When Jake had carefully hidden Sam's boots, as he
supposed, deep within the recesses of the great pile of logs and brush and roots, he began
groping his way back toward the entrance. It was pitch dark of course, but by walking
slowly and feeling his way carefully, he managed to follow the passage way. Just as he
began to think that he must be pretty nearly out of the den, however, he came suddenly
upon an obstruction. Feeling about carefully he found that the passage in which he stood
had come to an abrupt termination. We know, of course what had happened, but Jake did
not. He had come to the end of the log which Sam had thrown down to stop up the
passage way, and there was really no way for him to go. He supposed, of course, that he
had somehow wandered out of his way, leaving the main alley and following a side one
to its end. He therefore retraced his steps, feeling, as he went, for an opening upon one
side or the other. He found several, but none of them did him any good. Following each a
little way he came to its end in the matted logs, and had to try again. Presently he began
to get nervous and frightened. He imagined all sorts of things and so lost his presence of
mind that he forgot the outer appearance and size of the drift pile, and frightened himself
still further by imagining that it must extend for miles in every direction, and that he
might be hopelessly lost within its dark mazes. When he became frightened, he hurried
his footsteps, as nervous people always do, and the result was that he blacked one of his
eyes very badly by running against a projecting piece of timber. He was weary as well as
frightened, but he dared not give up his effort to get out. Hour after hour--and the hours
seemed weeks to him,--he wandered back and forth, afraid to call for assistance, and
afraid above everything else that morning would come and that he would be forced to
remain there in the drift pile while the boys marched away, or to call aloud for assistance
and be caught in his own meanness without the power to deny it. Finally morning broke,
and he could hear the boys as they began preparing for breakfast. It was his morning,
according to agreement, to cut wood for the fire and bring water, and so a search was
made for him at once. He heard several of the boys calling at the top of their lungs.
"Jake Elliott! Jake! Ja-a-a-ke!!" He knew then that his time had come.
What had Sam been doing all this time? Sleeping, I believe, for the most part, but he had
not gone to sleep without making up his mind precisely what course to pursue. When he
threw the log down, he meant merely to shut Jake Elliott and his own boots up for safe
keeping, and it was his purpose, when morning should come, to "have it out" with the
boot thief, in one way or another, as circumstances, and Jake's temper after his night's
adventure, might determine.
He walked back, therefore, to his place of rest, after he had blocked up the entrance of the
drift-pile, and threw himself down again under the bushes. Ten or fifteen minutes later he
heard a slight noise at the root of the great tree near him, and, looking, saw something
which looked surprisingly like a pair of boots, trying to force themselves out between two
of the exposed roots. Then he heard retreating footsteps within the space enclosed by the

circle of roots, and began to suspect the precise state of affairs. Examining the boots he
discovered that they were his own, and he quickly guessed the truth that Jake had pushed
them out from the inside, under the impression that he was driving them into a hole in the
centre of the tangled drift.
Sam was a brave boy, too brave to be vindictive, and so he quickly decided that as he had
recovered his boots he would subject his enemy only to so much punishment as he
thought was necessary to secure his good behavior afterward. He knew that the boys
would torment Jake unmercifully if the true story of the night's exploits should become
known to them, and while he knew that the culprit deserved the severest lesson, he was
too magnanimous to subject him to so sore a trial. He went to sleep, therefore, resolved