Captain Sedley was much disturbed by the painful event which had occurred; and though the club were entirely free from blame, he could not but question the expediency of continuing the organization.  The malicious spirit of Tim Bunker had been the cause of his misfortune.  People thought he was lucky to escape with his life, and that it would be a lesson he would remember a great many years.

Tony’s praises were upon everybody’s lips.  He had saved the life of his enemy, had plunged in at the risk of his own, to rescue one who had been intent upon his injury.  It was a noble and a Christian deed, so the good men and women said, while others declared, if they had been in Tony’s place, they would have let him drown.

The noble deed was appreciated; and the day after the event, a subscription paper was opened at the Rippleton Bank for Tony’s benefit.  Before night over a hundred dollars was collected, which the cashier presented to him, as he lay upon his bed, sick from the effects of his exertions.

The crew of the boat club were very highly commended for their efficient labors on the occasion.  If Frank had displayed less courage and address, or the discipline of the club had been less perfect, Tim must certainly have been drowned.  This fact was rendered the more apparent by the contrast between the conduct of the crew of the Zephyr and that of the Thunderbolt.  With all their exertion, on account of their want of discipline, the latter had been unable even to reach the spot until the former had received Tim on board.

All the sympathies of the people were with the boat club.  Nobody pitied Tim; for he was a quarrelsome, disagreeable boy, and had nearly lost his life in his attempt to gratify his malicious spite against his noble and generous deliverer.

In a few days Tony, who had suffered more from the shock than Tim, was able to go out again.  He was everywhere received with enthusiasm; and the first time the Zephyr visited Rippleton after the accident, people seemed determined to make a little lion of him.

Captain Sedley’s attention was now directed to the trial of Tony, which would take place in a few days, and he was exceedingly desirous of ascertaining how Tim was affected towards him since the rescue.  But the Thunderbolt had been laid up at Joe Braman’s landing, and the Bunkers appeared to be dispersed and separated since the accident.  Captain Sedley did not find their leader for several days, but at last he made a visit to his father’s house before Tim got up.

The young ruffian was very desirous of avoiding him; and when his mother went up-stairs and told him who had come, he put on his clothes, and slipped out of the house by the back door.  Captain Sedley happened to see him, however, as he was skulking off through the garden.

“Tim,” said he, running after him.

The leader of the Bunkers did not dare to run away from such an influential person as Captain Sedley; and, turning, he doggedly approached him.

“Tim, I want to see you about the trial, which, you know, takes place in a few days.”

“I don’t know nothin’ about it.”

“You don’t?” said Captain Sedley.

“No, I don’t;” and Tim, fixing his eyes upon the ground, amused himself by kicking a hole in the soil with his foot.

“Don’t you know anything about the wallet, or the money that was in it?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Just think a moment.”

“Don’t want to think; I don’t know nothin’ about it,” replied Tim sulkily.

“Tony is accused of the crime, and you know what a terrible thing it would be to have an innocent person suffer.”

“I s’pose it would.”

“You know Tony saved your life.”

“So I needn’t be evidence against him,” growled Tim.

Captain Sedley was astonished at his want of even the commonest feeling of gratitude.

“If that had been his motive, he would have let you drown.”

“I wonder he didn’t.”

“Tim, you are utterly hardened in iniquity.”

“No, I ain’t.”

“You have no gratitude towards your deliverer.”

“Yes, I have; I am much obliged to him for what he done, and when I see him, I’ll tell him so.”

“You do not seem in the least obliged to him.”

“I am; and besides, the folks gave him over a hundred dollars for what he done.  I should like to jump in after a dozen on the same terms.”

“You have nothing to say about the trial then, have you, Tim?”

“Don’t know nothin’ about it.  All I can say is, I saw him stickin’ somethin’ into his pocket.”

“You bought the boat in which you have been sailing on the lake.”

“No, I didn’t; it is Joe Braman’s,” replied Tim stoutly.

“Didn’t you tell the boys that you gave him ten dollars for it?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“And that you paid five dollars for having it fitted up?”

“I was only joking-tryin’ to sell ’em,” answered Tim, attempting to smile and look funny.

“That was it, was it?”

“That’s all.”

“And you have not paid Joe Braman any money?”

“Not a cent.”

“Tim,” said Captain Sedley sternly, “people think that you stole the wallet.”

“Me!  I hope to die if I did!”

“That you took some of the money out, and then put the wallet into Tony’s pocket, so as to fasten the guilt on him.”

“No such thing!”

“Just consider, Tim.  If you did, you had better confess it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Only think that Tony saved your life.”

“I’ve nothin’ against him.”

“But you ought to be for him.  If you have injured him in this matter, people will think a great deal better of you, if you confess it, and ask his forgiveness, whatever the consequences may be to yourself.”

“I hain’t hurt him.”

“If you are the guilty one, it will certainly come out at the trial.”

“I ain’t; I don’t know nothin’ about the wallet.  I’m sure I didn’t take it-I hope to die if I did!”

“Very well, Tim; if you have made up your mind not to confess it, I have nothing more to say.”

“I ain’t a going to confess it when I didn’t do it,” said Tim stoutly.

“But you did do it, Tim.”

“No, I didn’t nuther.”

“I am surprised at your hardihood.  Tony saved your life at the peril of his own, and yet you are willing to see him convicted of a crime which you committed yourself.”

“Who says I did?” said Tim, not a little confused by the directness with which Captain Sedley spoke to him.

“I say it, Tim.  Once more, will you free Tony from the charge by telling the truth?”

“I have told the truth.”

“No, you haven’t, Tim.  Will you confess the crime, and save Tony?”

“No, I won’t; I didn’t do it.”

“Very well,” replied Captain Sedley, as he left the young reprobate.

Tim did not know what to make of it.  Why Captain Sedley should lay it to him, he could not tell, unless it was on account of what he had said to Fred Harper about buying the Thunderbolt.  He was uneasy, and spent the forenoon in wandering about the woods back of his father’s house.  He felt as though something was going to happen, though he could not tell precisely what.

He had eaten no breakfast, and at noon he was driven home by hunger.  But he had scarcely seated himself at the dinner-table before a knock was heard at the door.

“Go to the door, Tim,” said his father.

“I don’t want to go,” answered Tim, with a whine.

A kind of dread had taken possession of him since his interview with Captain Sedley in the morning, and every noise he heard seemed to foretell that something was about to occur.

“Go, this minute!” said his father sternly.

“Don’t want to.”

“But you shall.”

Tim, finding there was no escape, rose, and went to the door.  To his consternation he beheld Mr. Headley, the constable!  He felt as though he should drop through the floor.  His heart beat so violently that he could hardly stand up.

“I want you, Tim,” said Mr. Headley.

“Me!” gasped Tim.

“Get your cap, and come along.”

“What for?”

“I’ll tell you when you get to the jail.”

Tim drew a long breath, and went back for his cap.

“Who is it, Tim?” asked his father.

But Tim made no reply, and instead of returning to the front door, he took his cap and sneaked out through the back room.  The woods were close by, and the hope of escaping inspired him with new courage.  Throwing open the back door, he rushed out.

“So, so! my fine fellow!” exclaimed the constable, who stood before the door, and into whose arms he had thrown himself as he leaped down the doorsteps.  “This is your plan, is it?  We’ll give you the ruffles, then.”

So saying, Mr. Headley took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, and fastened them upon Tim’s wrists.

“I didn’t steal the wallet,” cried Tim lustily, as he struggled to get away.

“You must come with me,” replied the constable, holding him fast.

Tim’s father and mother came to the door, as Mr. Headley marched him off.  They asked the officer what he was doing with their son.  Without stopping to give any details, he told them the boy was wanted for stealing Farmer Whipple’s wallet.