ust reasoned it out yourself, eh?" he asked, with acrid humor. "Well,
you're pretty smart."

The girl, perceiving the importance of her denial, enlarged upon it,
telling of her need of new shoes and of finding this dry, warm pair in a
closet in the cabin. She described minutely the worn-out places of her
own shoes and how she had thrown them into the stove and burned them up,
and the audience listened with renewed conviction that "the strange
woman" was the midnight prowler at the Watson cabin, and that Rita and
her companions were but mischievous hoodlums having no connection with
the murder.

Hanscom, filled with distrust of Carmody, demanded that the sheriff be
called to testify on this point, for he had made search of the cabin in
the first instance.

"We proved at the other session that Miss McLaren was unable to wear the
shoes which made the prints."

"We deny that!" asserted Raines. "That is just the point we are trying
to make. We don't _know_ that this Kauffman woman is unable to wear
those shoes."

Carmody decided to call young Kitsong, and Throop led Rita away and soon
returned with Henry, who came into the room looking like a trapped fox,
bewildered yet alert. He was rumpled and dirty, like one called from
sleep in a corral, but his face appealed to the heart of his mother, who
flung herself toward him with a piteous word of appeal, eager to let
him know that she was present and faithful.

The sheriff stopped her, and her husband--whose parental love was much
less vital--called upon her not to make a fool of herself.

The boy gave his name and age, and stated his relationship to the dead
man, but declared he had not seen him for months. "I didn't know he was
dead till the ranger told me," he said. He denied that he had had any
trouble with Watson. "He is my uncle," he added.

"I've known relatives to fight," commented the coroner, with dry
intonation, and several in the audience laughed, for it was well known
to them that the witness was at outs not only with his uncle, but with
his father.

"Now, Henry," said the coroner, severely, "we know this girl, Rita, made
a night visit to Watson's cabin. We have absolute proof of it. She did
not go there alone. Who was with her? Did you accompany her on this
trip?"

"_No_, sir."

"She never made that trip alone. Some man was with her. If not you, it
must have been Busby."

A sullen look came into the boy's face. "Well, it wasn't me--I know
that."