LARRY gulped hard, and for an instant that wild, trapped look flickered in his eyes.
"You didn't really see me at the transmitter, did you?" he asked with frantic eagerness.
"You were running it when I saw you," Danny answered reluctantly.
"But you couldn't be sure enough to testify on the witness stand, could you?" his cousin persisted. "I wasn't really running it. It was my transmitter, but I wasn't running it. The fact is, I kept telling them that they shouldn't."
"I heard you through the door," Danny went on miserably. "And when one of the guys opened it to come out, I saw you sitting with one hand on the set and the other holding the mike. I'd have to testify that you were operating it, Larry."
"But you don't need to tell them all that, do you?" he blurted, his voice rising angrily. "If you don't, I'm—" He choked until he could not speak. For almost a minute he chewed on his lip, fighting to keep back the tears. Finally he was able to speak again. "I'll go to the reformatory! That's what'll happen!"
Danny could feel a lump growing in his own throat. He swallowed hard.
"And, Danny," Larry exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, "you're the only one who can do anything about it!"
"I can't lie for you, Larry," the young woodsman said slowly.
"Sending me to the reformatory won't do anybody any good," his cousin said. "It won't help those people who got hurt when the plane was wrecked." He paused for a moment. "Look at all the harm it would do to Mom and Dad and me. And, Danny, I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Honestly I didn't."
"I'm sure of that," Danny agreed. "Jimmy and I almost got into the same sort of mess back on the Angle."
Larry grasped the young woodsman by both shoulders. "Then you will help me?" he pleaded.
"I don't know," Danny said slowly. "I just don't know."
All afternoon Danny could think of little else. What Larry said was true. Telling on him wouldn't help anybody. It would only make more trouble. The young woodsman sighed deeply and picked up his history book, but the words ran together, and the page blurred.
Perhaps he could tell Larry that he would do as he had asked him if his cousin would promise to go to church and Sunday school and youth group every week for the rest of the year. Perhaps he could win Larry's confidence that way. And yet—the problem tumbled endlessly through his mind.
Chet Bryson passed by Danny's desk just then, a twisted smirk on his face.
"Hello, Dynamite Dan," he said, "have you blown anybody up with those bombs of yours?" He jerked his finger toward two or three tracts that were sticking out of Danny's pocket.
"I'm praying that something will happen."
"Well, don't pray for me," Chet snapped.
The other guys took up Chet's new name for the young woodsman, and by the time they went racing down to the locker room to dress for the first baseball practice of the season, everyone was calling him "Dynamite Dan."
"Preach us a sermon, Dynamite," one guy called loudly.
Danny got slowly to his feet. He could feel the color flooding his cheeks, but his voice was clear and firm.
"I don't know anything about preaching a sermon," he said evenly, "but I'd certainly like to tell you what Jesus means to me and what He can mean to you."
A hush descended over the locker room.
The coach called from the doorway, "Come on, you guys; snap it up."
As they trotted onto the field, a senior jogged up beside Danny.
"That's the stuff, kid," he said approvingly. "Don't be afraid to stand up for what you believe."
That night when Danny got home, his cousin called him into his room. "Man, have I got some news!" he exclaimed happily.
"You mean you're not going to have to go to trial?"
"It's almost that good," Larry went on. "Dad went to see Joe and his dad today. We're going to pay the hospital bill for them, and Joe isn't going to say anything about me running the transmitter."
"You...you mean you're going to buy him off?" the young woodsman asked.
"Oh, no," Larry said quickly. "They practically offered to help us out. We're just paying the bill as a favor."
"What about the other kids who were there?" Danny asked lamely. He felt a little sick inside. "Won't they tell on you?"
Larry shook his head. "They know what's good for them," he said. "They're just glad that Clarence hasn't rounded them up yet." For the first time he smiled a little. "It isn't them I'm worried about, Danny. If you'd just help me out now, everything would be all right."
Danny shook his head uncertainly.
That night he dropped to his knees at the side of the bed and began to pray that the Lord would guide him. But there didn't seem to be any help for him, even there.
The next morning when he went to school, he was just as miserable, just as uncertain of what he should do.
Somehow he got through the afternoon classes and baseball practice that followed. Every moment had been torture, but there was youth group that night. It was strange how much going to church and praying meant at a time like this.
After supper, when Danny was in his room dressing for the meeting, his cousin came down and knocked on his door.
"I think I'll go along with you, Danny," he said.
Perhaps this was the time when Larry would see that he needed a Saviour. Perhaps tonight? There was a prayer in the young woodsman's heart as he and his cousin walked to church together.
The meeting seemed to be planned just for Larry. The testimonies were better than usual, and the message hit sledgehammer blows at sin. When the invitation was given, Danny could feel his cousin's shoulder quiver as they stood together.
"Wouldn't you like to go forward?" Danny whispered hopefully.
But Larry shook his head. "I want to talk to you first."
As the two boys started out the door together, someone touched the young woodsman on the shoulder. He stopped and turned quickly to see Eric Tanner and Peggy Denton standing there. They were both juniors at school and had never been to youth group before.
"Could we talk to you, Danny?" Eric asked.
"I...I don't know," Danny hesitated, looking desperately at Larry who was already moving away. He had hoped to talk with him more about the Lord.
"It's awfully important," Peggy said, her blue eyes serious and pleading.
While the young woodsman stood there helplessly, his cousin disappeared out the door.