unnoticed.

The afternoon soon began to lag. The woods had lost their first glamour.
Their games grew to be burdensome. They were weary and hungry, and
becoming correspondingly brittle in temper. Already Nemesis was on their
trail. Sick at heart and weighted with forebodings, Larry listened
to the plans of the other boys by which they expected to elude the
consequences of their truancy. In the discussion of their plans Larry
took no part. They offered him no hope. He knew that if he were prepared
to lie, as they had cheerfully decided, his simple word would carry him
through at home. But there the difficulty arose. Was he willing to lie?
He had never lied to his mother in all his life. He visualised her face
as she listened to him recounting his falsified tale of the day's doings
and unconsciously he groaned aloud.

"What's the matter with you, Larry?" inquired Mop, noticing his pale
face.

"Oh, nothing; it's getting a little cold, I guess."

"Cold!" laughed Mop. "I guess you're getting scared all right."

To this Larry made no reply. He was too miserable, too tired to explain
his state of mind. He was doubtful whether he could explain to Mop or to
Joe his unwillingness to lie to his mother.

"It don't take much to scare you anyway," said Mop with an ugly grin.

The situation was not without its anxieties to Mop, for while he felt
fairly confident as to his ability to meet successfully his mother's