een the
fellow half-rise and crawl into the bushes; and, having reached the
spot, he was much relieved, if somewhat staggered, to find no body.
He did find tracks, for this was plowed ground; but they told him
nothing of the wounded man except that he had left in a hurry on a
pair of rather large feet.

He looked about for a while, and then started toward the house,
determined to have an explanation with Jim. He knew Jim's gun by the
sound of its report, and felt no doubt that the boy had fired the
shot. What sort of culpable accident had happened?

Suffering still with the splitting headache which he had been trying
to sleep off, angry with Jim for his carelessness, concerned lest
the man were really injured, Mr. Edwards was in his least
compromising mood.

"How did it happen?" he asked, without preface. His tones were
harsh, and he fixed Jim with stern eyes.

"How did it happen!" repeated Jim, in pure surprise. Certainly his
father knew much better than he how it had happened.

"Speak out!" said Mr. Edwards, impatiently. "How did you come to
shoot that man? I want to know about it."

"Me!" cried Jim, in complete bewilderment. "I--I haven't shot any
man, father! You know I haven't."

Mr. Edwards, never a man of nice observation, and now bewildered
with anger and headache, took his son's genuine astonishment for
mere pretense and subterfuge. Were not the facts plain?

"I don't want any nonsense about this," he said incisively. "I
heard your gun. I saw the man fall. No one else but you could
possibly have fired it. It's useless to lie, and I won't stand
it. Tell me at once what happened."

"I didn't shoot him, father. You _know_ I didn't!" reiterated Jim,
more and more dumfounded. "I don't know how it happened, honest
Injun--I don't, father!"

Mr. Edwards's mouth shut tight. He swept the room with his eyes
until they rested upon the gun in the rack over the mantelpiece.

He stepped forward, took it down, and examined it. Holding it in his
hands, he gazed about the floor. A rag which the ashes in the
fireplace had not wholly covered caught his attention.

"You cleaned the gun and put it away," he said grimly. "Then you
tried to hide the rag with which you cleaned it," and he touched the
bit of cloth sticking from the ashes contemptuously with his foot.
"What do you expect me to think from that?"

Jim was silent. The boy was unlike his father in many ways, but they
were alike in this: they both were proud