about, I--I reckon
I better be joggin' along. I just kinda dropped in, late's it was, to
tell you there wa'n't no mail, and to say--to tell you----"

He stopped abruptly. He didn't like the looks of Denny Bolton's eyes.
They were different than he had ever seen them before. If their
inscrutability was not actually terrifying, Old Jerry's active
imagination at that moment made it so. And never before had he noted
how huge the boy's body was in comparison with his own weazened frame.
He groped stealthily behind him and found the door catch. The cool
touch of the metal helped him a little.

"I--I may be a trifle late--jest a trifle," he hurried on, "but I been
hustlin' to git here--that is, ever sense about five o'clock, or
thereabouts. There's been something I been wantin' to tell you. I--I
jest wanted to say that I hoped it wa'n't anything I might have said
or--or kinda hinted at, maybe, nights down to the Tavern, that's druv
you out. That's a mighty mean, gossipy crowd down there, anyway,
always kinda leadin' a man along till he gits to oversteppin' hisself
a little."

It was the first declaration of his own shortcomings that he had ever
voiced, an humble confession that was more than half apology born of
that afternoon's travail of spirit; but somehow it rang hopelessly
inadequate in his own ears at that minute. And yet Young Denny's head
came swiftly forward at the words; his eyes narrowed and he frowned as
though he were trying to believe he had heard correctly. Then he
laughed--laughed softly--and Old Jerry knew what that laugh meant. The
boy didn't believe even when he had heard; and his slow-drawled,
half-satirical question more than confirmed that suspicion.

"Wasn't at all curious, then, about this?" he inquired, with a
whimsical twist to the words.

He touched his chin with the tips of his fingers. Old Jerry's
treacherous lips flew open in his eagerness, and then closed barely
in time upon the admission that had almost betrayed him.

He was sorry now, too, that he had even lingered to make his apology.
That disturbing glint was flaring brighter than ever in Young Denny's
eyes. Merely because he was afraid to turn his back to pass out, Old
Jerry stood and watched with beadily attentive eyes while the boy
crossed and took a lantern from its peg on the wall behind the stove
and turned up the wick and lighted it. That unexplained preparation
was as fascinating to watch as its purport was veiled.

"You must