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d Van Dusen a little, even though he wore heavy-soled shoes. He wondered that the barefooted Ichabod experienced no discomfort to all appearance. As a matter of fact, the old fisherman's soles were horny, tough as any leather. As the two journeyed on, the detective gratified his natural curiosity concerning things round-about by questioning his companion. He was especially interested in the small bands of wild ponies that appeared from time to time. These, like himself, were inquisitive, and often would stand gazing with curious eyes, until the men were within a hundred yards of them, before they would show their heels and go cantering off through the deep sand. Ichabod, though he answered at length all the questions put to him by the detective, kept up a train of thinking apart. He showed the results of it presently when he spoke. "Do ye know, Mr. Detective," he began, "I've been a-thinkin' a whole week 'bout that poor cuss what me an' you are a-tryin' to run down? Do ye know, from what that pretty gal says, I don't say as how that feller orter go to a jail house? Thar's a heap o' good left in that man yit. Jest think what he done out thar in the Sound a-savin' o' the kid! That wa'n't the act o' no beast--not by a damned sight!" "Yes, Captain," Van Dusen answered, "I'll admit that was not the act of a beast. But don't you think that a man becomes worse than a beast when he allows the craving for drugs to destroy mind and body and to prompt him to acts such as those of which this degenerate has been guilty?" "But, Mr. Detective," the fisherman argued, "that man was led astray. Seems as if, 'cordin' to my way o' thinkin', this case is a heap like that o' a poor gal what's led off when she's young. It don't make no difference what happens arterward. The folks, women 'specially, won't give her no credit, no matter how hard she tries to go right. They jest naturally kain't see no good in her. Ye see, I used to know a gal like that. But she was smart. She up an' moved clear out o' the country, an' started life all over ag'in. It's right-smart hard to believe, but, sir, that gal married a preacher, an' worked a durn sight harder fer God than a heap o' the ones that she up and left behind did! Them poor fools are still a-talkin' 'bout her. Now, Mr. Van Dusen, do ye exactly have to arrest Garnet if we find him?" "Well," the detective answered, "since he's a murderer any one has the right to arrest him. For my part,
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