trying to add murder to suicide. We're deep enough in trouble. Otto reads
you too many of them detective stories."

"It will be easy to decide all that, Emmaline," said grandfather quietly.
"If he shot himself in the way they think, the gash will be torn from the
inside outward."

"Just so it is, Mr. Burden," Otto affirmed. "I seen bunches of hair and
stuff sticking to the poles and straw along the roof. They was blown up
there by gunshot, no question."

Grandmother told grandfather she meant to go over to the Shimerdas with
him.

"There is nothing you can do," he said doubtfully. "The body can't be
touched until we get the coroner here from Black Hawk, and that will be a
matter of several days, this weather."

"Well, I can take them some victuals, anyway, and say a word of comfort to
them poor little girls. The oldest one was his darling, and was like a
right hand to him. He might have thought of her. He's left her alone in a
hard world." She glanced distrustfully at Ambrosch, who was now eating his
breakfast at the kitchen table.

Fuchs, although he had been up in the cold nearly all night, was going to
make the long ride to Black Hawk to fetch the priest and the coroner. On
the gray gelding, our best horse, he would try to pick his way across the
country with no roads to guide him.

"Don't you worry about me, Mrs. Burden," he said cheerfully, as he put on
a second pair of socks. "I've got a good nose for directions, and I never
did need much sleep. It's the gray I'm worried about. I'll save him what I
can, but it'll strain him, as sure as I'm telling you!"

"This is no time to be over-considerate of animals, Otto; do the best you
can for yourself. Stop at the Widow Steavens's for dinner. She's a good
woman, and she'll do well by you."

After Fuchs rode away, I was left with Ambrosch. I saw a side of him I had
not seen before. He was deeply, even slavishly, devout. He did not say a
word all morning, but sat with his rosary in his hands, praying, now
silently, now aloud. He never looked away from his beads, nor lifted his
hands except to cross himself. Several times the poor boy fell asleep
where he sat, wakened with a start, and began to pray again.

No wagon could be got to the Shimerdas' until a road was broken, and that
would be a day's job. Grandfather came from the barn on one of our big
black horses, and Jake lifted grandmother up behind him. She wore her
black hood and was bundled up in shawls. Gra