Then he heard retreating footsteps within the space enclosed by the circle of roots, and began to suspect the precise state of affairs.

Examining the boots he discovered that they were his own, and he quickly guessed the truth that Jake had pushed them out from the inside, under the impression that he was driving them into a hole in the centre of the tangled drift.
Sam was a brave boy, too brave to be vindictive, and so he quickly decided that as he had recovered his boots he would subject his enemy only to so much punishment as he thought was necessary to secure his good behavior afterward.

He knew that the boys would torment Jake unmercifully if the true story of the night's exploits should become known to them, and while he knew that the culprit deserved the severest lesson, he was too magnanimous to subject him to so sore a trial.

He went to sleep, therefore, resolved to release his enemy quietly in the morning, before the other boys should be astir.
Unluckily he overslept himself, and so the first hint of the dawn he received was from the loud calling of the boys for Jake Elliott.
Fortunately Jake had not yet nerved himself up to the point of answering and calling for assistance, and so Sam had still a chance to execute his plan.
"Never mind calling Jake," he cried, as he rose from his couch of bushes, "but run down to the spring and bring some water.

I have Jake engaged elsewhere." The boys suspected at once that Sam and Jake had arranged a private battle to be fought somewhere in the woods beyond camp lines, a battle with fists for the mastery, and they were strongly disposed to follow their captain as he started up the river.
"Stop," cried Sam.