"I should worry about circumstantial evidence," I told him. "Why should
I care about circumstantial evidence? What did circumstantial evidence
ever do for _me_, I'd like to know?"

Then he began to laugh. Gee, _I_ didn't know what he was laughing at.

"Nothing would shake you, huh?" he said.

"Believe me, it would take an earthquake," I told him.

He looked all around and moved the stick around on the shingles, as if
he was thinking.

Then he said, "Well, Skinny went over to the Hudson to that house-boat
you fellows came up on. He followed the old bed of Bowl Valley creek.
Now don't get excited. He had as much right to go there as you have. He
was all worked up, and he isn't just exactly right in his head, you
know that. He just wanted to go home and be all alone by himself. The
house-boat was the only home he knew. I didn't go on the boat, because
I had no right to, and because there was no need to. I didn't know he
had any key. I don't believe he hid anything, if that's what you're
thinking about. I tracked him because I wanted to make sure he was safe
and know what he was doing. As soon as I saw where he was headed for, I
just beat it back. Nothing to it, Blakeley; don't worry."

"But now you know he had a key to a locker," I said.

He just said, "Well, what of it? I believe in him and there you are. I
wouldn't care if he had keys to all the banks and safe deposit vaults
in the United States."

Gee, it just kind of gave me a thrill, the way he spoke. I said,
"Anyway, now I know that I like you. I ought to have had sense enough
to know before."

Then he said, "You see, Blakeley, Skinny's a mighty queer little
proposition. If it wasn't for that scoutmaster you fellows have, I'd
say he would never make a regular tip-top scout. But I think that Mr.
What's-his-name--Ellsworth--is a wonder."

"Believe me, you said something," I told him.

"You know yourself," he said, "how that kid talks--shouts, I mean.
Stealing silver, picking pockets! What are all these fellows to think?
Most of the fellows here come from good folks. They don't understand a
poor little codger like Skinny who is half crazy, because he's been
half starved. You know yourself that he doesn't fit in here. I don't
say he isn't going to. But I'm good at arithmetic, Blakeley--"

"Gee, you're a peach on tracking, too," I said.

"Well, and I know how to put two and two together," he said. "I knew, I
just felt it in my bones, that that gold dust