CHAPTER XXII
JAMIE'S RIDE.
'Now, Jamie! the white gate."
"The white gate!—what about that?" He had forgotten his promise.
"You have a secret to tell me."
Then the boy began to laugh and to tap his pockets.
"What do you think, Ju! look what I have found. Do you know what is in the loft of the cottage we were in? There are piles of tobacco, all up hidden away in the dark under the rafters. I have got my pockets stuffed as full as they will hold. It is for Uncle Zachie. Won't he be pleased?"
"Oh, Jamie! you should not have done that."
"Why not? Don't scold, Ju!"
"It is stealing."
"No, it is not. No one lives there."
"Nevertheless it belongs to some one, by whatever means it was got, and for whatever purpose stowed away there. You had no right to touch it."
"Then why do you take snail-shells?"
"They belong to no one, no one values them. It is other with this tobacco. Give it up. Take it back again."
"What—to Aunt Dunes? I daren't, she's so cross."
"Well, give it to me, and I will take it to her. She is now at the cottage, and the tobacco can be replaced."
"Oh, Ju, I should like to see her scramble up the wall!"
"I do not think she will do that; but she will contrive somehow to have the tobacco restored. It is not yours, and I believe it belongs to Captain Cruel. If it be not given back now he may hear of it and be very angry."
"He would beat me," said the boy, hastily emptying his pockets. "I'd rather have Aunt Dunes' jaw than Captain Cruel's stick." He gave the tobacco to his sis-
