coldly. She started on, but turned
suddenly and asked whether we had learned anything more about the death
of those colts.

"And, oh, do you think that poor Sylph lay there, suffering, a long
time?" she exclaimed, with tears in her eyes. "I keep thinking of it."

"No, we have learned nothing more," the old Squire said gently. "It was
a mysterious affair; but I think all three of the colts died suddenly,
within a few minutes."

That was all he could say to comfort her, and Mrs. Kennard walked slowly
away with her handkerchief at her eyes. It was painful, and I sat there
in the wagon feeling like a mean little malefactor.

"Very singular about those colts," the old Squire remarked partly to me,
partly to himself, as we drove on. "A strange thing."

Sudden resolution nerved me. I was sick of skulking. "Sir," said I,
swallowing hard several times, "I know what killed those colts!"

The old Squire glanced quickly at me, started to speak, but, seeing how
greatly agitated I was, kindly refrained from questioning me.

"It was fox pills!" I blurted out. "Willis Murch and Ad and I had a fox
bed up there last winter. We never thought of it when the colts were put
in. They ate the poison pills."

The old Squire made no comment, and I plunged into further details.

"That accounts for it, then," he said at last.

I had expected him to speak plainly to me about those fox pills, but he
merely asked me what I thought of using poison in trapping.

"I never would use it again!" I exclaimed hotly. "I've had enough of
it!"

"I am glad you see it so," he remarked. "It is a bad method. You never
know what may come of it. Hounds or deer may get it, or sheep, or young
cattle, or even children."

We drove on in silence for some minutes. Clearly the old Squire was
having me do my own thinking; for he now asked me what I thought should
be done next.

"Ad thinks we ought to square it up somehow," I replied.

The old Squire nodded. "I am glad to hear that," he said. "What does
Addison think we ought to do?"

"Pay Mr. Cutter for that Percheron colt."

"Yes, and Mrs. Kennard?"

"He thinks we could find another sorrel colt somewhere and make her a
present of it."

The old Squire nodded again. "I see. Perhaps we can." Then, after a
minute, "And what about letting this be known?"

"Willis is scared," I said. "Addison thinks it would be about as well
now to settle up if we can and say nothing."

The old Squire did not reply to