, aren't they?" persisted the boy.

"Right muddy," the sheriff agreed.

"And Bill's shoes are muddy, too."

There was no doubt of that, either.

"Well?" said the sheriff, questioningly.

For answer Anton held out Dan'l's other shoe, the one he had been
holding in his hand.

"This isn't muddy," he said. "What's more, it's got dust on it, dust in
all the cracks. You can see it hasn't been cleaned for a long time,
probably never since it was given him."

"Well?" repeated the sheriff, still uncomprehending.

"Lindstrom's place is more'n a mile from here," declared Anton, his
heart beating hard.

"Jest a mile," said Ole Lindstrom.

"And you say the shooting was before half-past eight?"

"It sho' was," the sheriff answered, "it was jest a little after
half-past eight that Carl was carried home."

"Then," declared Anton, in a quiet way that carried conviction, "Dan'l
didn't do it, and I can prove it."

"Mistah Anton! Mistah Anton!" the darky cried.

"Quiet! You!" said the man who was holding the prisoner.

"What do you mean, Anton?" the boy's father asked him.

"It's quite easy," the boy declared. "If the shooting was done before
half-past eight, it was done just about the time that the rain began. It
would take Dan'l--if he'd done it--all of twenty minutes to walk from
Lindstrom's place here. It rained heavily, if you like I can give you
the amount of rain in tenths of an inch, and twenty minutes of walking
in that rain would make him wet through. By the time it had rained five
minutes, the ground would be muddy. But see, Mr. Abner, the soles of the
shoes are quite dry. And, Dan'l's clothes are quite dry."

He picked up the gun that stood leaning in the corner.

"The gun's dry, it hasn't been cleaned and there's no rust on it. Dan'l
hasn't got two sets of rough clothes and he sure hasn't got two guns.
Doesn't that prove he couldn't have been out after the rain started?"

The sheriff looked a little dubious.

"Yo' sho' put up a good argument for yo' nigger," he said, "but yo'
boys' foolin' about weather ain't evidence. That don't go in court, yo'
know."

"You're a little wrong there, Mr. Abner," said Anton's father. "This is
an official co-operative observer's station of the Weather Bureau. By a
decision of the supreme court, our records have got to be accepted as
evidence. There's a ruling to that effect."

"There is, eh?" said the sheriff. "First I ever knew of it. But if yo'
say so, why, of cours