patch to keep
people off, first told us to go back, and then asked where we were
going.

Elsie merely told him that so far as she knew the road went further--on
to Bewick Upton, in fact.

"Are you the kids that came across the moor and found this--and the
prisoner?"

To make him civil we told him we were, but that Davie Elshiner was
surely innocent and would not harm a fly.

"That's as may be," said the policeman; "what did he say when you woke
him?"

We told the man that Davie was afraid of being suspected, having been
last seen with the missing man, also how he was sure that because he
was a known poacher people would not believe him.

"Aye," said the policeman, nodding his head dreadfully wisely, "indeed,
he was right to say that. Ah, a bad conscience is our best friend! It
is indeed!" And everything we could say in favour of Davie seemed just
to tell against him, so that we had to be content with saying that he
was the person least likely to do such a thing, because he would
certainly be suspected, and that they might as well suspect us.

This last remark seemed to impress the policeman, who pulled out a fat
notebook and solemnly jotted it down before our eyes.

"It's a good rule in our business," he said slowly, "to suspect the
least likely persons. Thank you very much for your interesting
communication--thank you very much, indeed!"

"Ah, you're dotty!" I called out to him in a sudden fume of anger, and
left him standing there and slowly buckling up the flap of the inside
pocket in which he had stowed away his precious notebook.

Now I am not going to pretend that Elsie and I found anything very
grand that day, for we didn't. But at any rate we knew for certain how
Dappled Bess came home, and where the leaves came from. It was all
simple enough and quite natural. The poor beast had got a fright by
the bridge on the Bewick road. She turned off it, therefore, as soon
as she could. We found the wheel tracks leading away to the left along
a rough moor track. The cart had been going fast, evidently empty or
at least very lightly laden. For there was little depth to the
impression even in fairly mossy places, but the rocks and stones were
bumped and scarred with the iron tire as the wagon rebounded from side
to side.

We soon found ourselves making for the highway, which is known in our
parts as the Old Military Road. It goes into Scotland to a place
called Longtown, and beyond that, they say