ing to me
of his journey or its result.

"How do you know?" snapped Mr. Grimshaw.

"This boy see it plain. It was a gun with a piece o' wood broke out o'
the stock."

"Is that so?" was the brusque demand of the money-lender as he turned to
me.

"Yes, sir," I answered.

"The boy lies," he snapped, and turning to my uncle added: "Yer mad
'cause I'm tryin' to make ye pay yer honest debts--ain't ye now?"

We were stunned by this quick attack. Uncle Peabody rose suddenly and
sat down again. Mr. Grimshaw looked at him with a strange smile and a
taunting devilish laugh came out of his open lips.

Uncle Peabody, keeping his temper, shook his head and calmly said: "No I
ain't anything ag'in' you or Amos, but it's got to be so that a man can
travel the roads o' this town without gettin' his head blowed off."

Mr. Dunkelberg jumped into the breach then, saying:

"I told Mr. Grimshaw that you hadn't any grudge against him or his boy
and that I knew you'd do what you could to help in this matter."

"Of course I'll help in any way I can," my uncle answered. "I couldn't
harm him if I tried--not if he's innocent. All he's got to do is to
prove where he was that night."

"Suppose he was lost in the woods?" Mr. Dunkelberg asked.

"The truth wouldn't harm him any," my uncle insisted. "Them tracks
wouldn't fit his boots, an' they'd have to."

Mr. Dunkelberg turned to me and asked:

"Are you sure that the stock of the gun you saw was broken?"

"Yes, sir-and I'm almost sure it was Amos that ran away with it."

"Why?"

"I picked up a stone and threw it at him and it grazed the left side of
his face, and the other night I saw the scar it made."

My aunt and uncle and Mr. Dunkelberg moved with astonishment as I spoke
of the scar. Mr. Grimshaw, with keen eyes fixed upon me, gave a little
grunt of incredulity.

"Huh!--Liar!" he muttered.

"I am not a liar," I declared with indignation, whereupon my aunt
angrily stirred the fire in the stove and Uncle Peabody put his hand on
my arm and said:

"Hush, Bart! Keep your temper, son."

"If you tell these things you may be the means of sending an innocent
boy to his death," Mr. Dunkelberg said to me. "I wouldn't be too sure
about 'em if I were you. It's so easy to be mistaken. You couldn't be
sure in the dusk that the stone really hit him, could you?"

I answered: "Yes, sir--I saw the stone hit and I saw him put his hand on
the place while he was running. I guess it hurt him