The negro went back into his cabin, but came out again a few minutes later and started up the road toward the house.

CHAPTER XVII.

CONCLUSION.

Bob and his companion were so utterly disheartened, and so nearly overcome with the cold, that they no longer looked upon exposure as the worst thing that could happen to them.  They had made up their minds that it could not be avoided, and told themselves that the sooner it was over and they were allowed to leave their airy perch the sooner they would breathe easily again.  They could not talk now.  They could only sit and gaze in the direction in which the hostler had disappeared, and wait for somebody to come and call off the dogs.  Bob hoped that somebody would be Bert.  He was a simple-minded little fellow, and might be persuaded to believe the story that Bob had told the hostler.  But Bert did not come to their relief; it was his father.  When Bob saw him he wished most heartily that the roof would open and let him down out of sight.

“Why, boys, what is the meaning of this?” asked the General, as soon as he came within speaking distance.

“It means that we have been up here since midnight and are nearly frozen,” replied Bob, trying to smile and looking as innocent as a guilty boy could.  “We were out ’coon-hunting in the river bottoms and came through your fields, because that was the nearest way home; but the dogs saw us and drove us up here.”

The General had but to use his eyes to find all the evidence he needed to prove this story false.  The meal bags, in which the boys expected to carry away the stolen quails, were lying on the ground in plain sight, one of them having fallen in such a position that the owner’s name, which was painted on it in large black letters, was plainly visible.  More than that, under one of the planks which protected the window, was the iron lever with which Bob had tried to force an entrance into the cabin.  He left it sticking there when he fell off Lester’s shoulders.

“Well, you may come down now,” said the General.  “The hounds will not trouble you.”

It was easy enough to say come down, but it was not so easy to do it, as the boys found when they began working their way over the frosty roof.  The shingles were as slippery as glass, and their hands seemed to have lost all their strength; but they reached the ground without any mishap, and were about to hurry away as fast as their cramped legs would carry them, when the General asked: 

“Hadn’t you better go up to the house and get warm?”

“O, no, thank you, sir,” replied Bob.  “We’ll go directly home.  Our folks will wonder what has become of us.”

“Are these your bags?”

“No, sir,” replied Bob, promptly.  “One doesn’t usually carry meal bags to bring home ’coons in.”

“I am aware of that fact,” said the General, “but couldn’t they be used to carry quails in?  These bags have you father’s name on them, and you had better come and get them.”