be just a little curious about it--just a little bit?" Denny
insisted gravely. "I thought you'd be--and all the others, too. That's
why I was waiting for you--that and something in particular that I did
want to ask you, after I'd made you understand."

If the first part of his statement was still tinged with mirth, the
second could not possibly have been any more direct or earnest.
Without further explanation, one hand grasping his visitor's thin
shoulder, he urged him outside and across the yard in the direction of
the black bulk of the barn. The rain was still coming down steadily,
but neither of them noticed it at that moment. Old Jerry would have
balked at the yawning barn door but for that same hand which was
directing him and urging him on. His apprehension had now turned to
actual fright which bordered close on panic, and he heard the boy's
voice as though it came from a great distance.

"----two or three things I'd like to have you understand and get
straight," Denny was repeating slowly, "so that--so that if I asked
you, you could see that--someone else got them straight, too."

Old Jerry was in no mental condition to realize that that last
statement was untinged by any lurking sarcasm. He was able to think of
but one thing.

The hand upon his shoulder had loosened its grip. Slowly the little
man turned--turned with infinite caution, and what he considered was a
very capable attitude of self-defense. And for a moment he refused to
believe his own eyes--refused to believe that, in place of the threat
of sudden death which he had expected, Young Denny was merely standing
there before him, pointing with his free hand at a dark, almost damp
stain upon the dusty woodwork behind the stalls. It flashed through
his brain then that Denny Bolton had not merely gone the way of the
other Boltons--it was not the jug alone that had stood in the kitchen
corner, but something far worse than that.

"I got to humor him," he told himself, although he was shivering
uncontrollably. "I got to keep a grip on myself and kinda humor him."
And aloud, in a voice that was little more than a whisper, he
murmured:

"What--what is it?"

"Couldn't you guess--if you had to?"

Denny made the suggestion with appalling calm. Old Jerry clenched his
teeth to still their chattering.

"Maybe I could--maybe I could;" and his voice was a little stronger.
"I--I'd say it was blood, I reckon, if anyone asked me."

Without a word the boy set