“O Sylvanus!” ejaculated Tryphosa.

“O Timotheus!” added Tryphosa.

“It’s a lie!” cried Rufus; “it’s a mill dam, boom jam, coffer-dam lie, and I won’t believe a word of it.”

“Fact all the same,” said Mr. Pawkins, calmly, “they air guilty, the two on ’em, of stealin’ aout o’ the Peskiwanchow ho-tel.”

“What did they steal out?” asked the Richards boys.

“Clothes, I guess, boots, some money, books, I don’t know all what, and it don’t consarn me any; but them boys had best look spry and git aout o’ this.”  With these words, the gentleman of American extraction finished his last piece of pie.

Sylvanus rose cheerfully.  He was so radiant over it that Tryphena thought him really handsome.  He whispered to Rufus and to Ben; then remarked to Timotheus that he had perhaps better remain, in case the Squire should send for him.  Next, he turned to Mr. Pawkins, and said:  “A man mought as well be hung fer a sheep as fer a lamb, Mr. Pawkins, and sence they’s a warn’t out to ‘raist me and Timotheus, we ain’t a goin’ to put the law to no more trouble ’bout a new one.  Ef you’ll come outside, I’ll show you some o’ them things we stoled out’n the Peskiwanchow tav.”  So Sylvanus took the accuser of the brethren by one arm, and Rufus linked his lovingly in the other, while Ben, with a glance of intelligence at Serlizer, and another at his top boots, followed.  Mr. Pawkins, confident in his smartness and in the ignorance of the simple-minded Canucks, went quietly with the courteous criminal and his cut-out friend, till, passing the stables, they led him through a broad gate into the meadow.  Then he hesitated.

“The stoled things, leastways some on ’em, ‘ll be at the foot o’ this yere slope soon’s we will; so hurry, old man!” said Sylvanus.  Mr. Pawkins demurred.  “Look here, boys,” he said, “a joke’s a joke, ain’t it?  D’ye see, you did, the pair on you, steal aout of the hotel.  I didn’t go to say you took anythin’ as didn’t belong to you.  I reckon your brother had clothes, and money, and books thar, and so, you and him took ’em aout.  Lem me go, boys!”

Sylvanus and Rufus were obdurate.  “Boost him, Ben,” cried the former:  “we ain’t no time ter spend foolin’ with the likes o’ him.”

Mr. Toner raised his boot and said, “One fer Serlizer!” which made the joker proceed.  He had several other ones, before he was run down to the creek—­for Timotheus and Tryphena, and Tryphosa, and Christie Hislop, and Barney and Biddy Sullivan, and old man Newcome.  Ben’s boot did capital service.  With difficulty the executioners found a hole in the creek about two and a-half feet deep, in which, at full length and with great gravity, they deposited the exile from the States.  Then, they guessed the Squire, or the Captain, or somebody, would be wanting them, and skipped lightly back to the house.  They knew Mr. Pawkins would follow, since he was the last man in the settlement to miss his juror’s fee of one dollar.  After their return, there was a good deal of merriment in the kitchen, and the two Richards boys roundly upbraided the elder Pilgrim for depriving them of a share in the fun.  “He baygged an’ prayed for massy,” said Mr. Toner, with a grim smile, “but we was the most onmassifullest craowd you ever see.”