without any more fears of betrayal from this source.

As soon as the foolish boy reached the woods, he hid his satchel, so as to
get clear of the trouble it was to him, beside a large stone, and covered
it with leaves and long grass. Then he felt free, and, as he thought,
happy.

But it was not long before he got tired of rambling about alone. He
listened, sometimes, to the birds, and sometimes tried, with stones, to
kill the beautiful and innocent creatures. Then he thought how pleasant it
would be to find a nest, and carry off the young ones; and he searched with
great diligence for a long time, but could find no nest.

Once a little striped squirrel glided past him, and mounted a high tree. As
it ran around and around the great trunk, appearing and disappearing at
intervals, Richard tried to knock it off with stones. But his aim was not
very true. Instead of hitting the squirrel, he managed to get a severe blow
himself; for a stone which he threw very high, struck a large limb, and,
bouncing back, fell upon his upturned face, and cut him badly.

From that moment, all the pleasure he had felt since entering the woods was
gone. The blood stained his shirt bosom, and covered his hand when he put
it up to his face. Of course, the wound, and the blood upon his shirt,
would betray him. This was his first thought, as he washed himself at a
small stream. But, then, all at once it occurred to him--for evil
suggestions are sure to be made to us when we are in the way to receive
them--that it would be just as easy to say that a boy threw a stone, which
struck him as he was walking along the street, as to say that he got hurt
while in the woods. And, without stopping to think how wicked it would be
to tell a lie, Richard determined to make this statement when he got home.