ter ther Harpers
an' Thorntons but ter them an' ther Doanes alike.... 'Pears like them of
both lots thet wants right-livin' hes a call on me ... that when old
Caleb giv me his consent ter wed with ye, he give me a duty, too--a duty
ter try an' weld things tergither thet's kep' breakin' apart
heretofore."

Yet one member of the party that had gone to old Jim's had gained
enlightenment even if he had held his counsel concerning his discovery.

The investigators had encountered little difficulty in computing just
about where the rifleman had lain to shoot, but that had told them
nothing at all of his identity. Yet as the three had stood on the spot
where Bas Rowlett had crouched that day Sim's keen eye had detected a
small object half buried in the earth and quietly he had covered it with
his foot. Later, when the other two turned away, he stooped and picked
up a rusty jack-knife--and he knew that knife had belonged to Bas
Rowlett. Given that clue and attaching to it such other things as he
already knew of Bas, it was not hard for Sim to construct a theory that,
to his own mind at least, stood on all fours with probability.

So, when the mercenary reported to Rowlett what had occurred on that
afternoon he omitted any mention of the knife, but much later he
carelessly turned it over to its owner--and confirmed his suspicions.

"I diskivered hit layin' in ther highway," he said, innocently and Bas
had looked at the corroded thing and had answered without suspicion,
"Hit used ter be mine but hit hain't much use ter me now; I reckon I
must hev drapped hit some time or other."

* * * * *

Bas Rowlett disappeared from his own neighbourhood for the period of ten
days about that time. He said that he was going to Clay City to discuss
a contract for a shipment of timber that should be rafted out on the
next "spring-tide"; and in that statement he told the truth, as was
evidenced by postcards he wrote back bearing the Clay City postmark.

But the feature of the visit which went unmentioned was that at the same
time, and by prearrangement, Will Turk came from over in Virginia and
met at the town where the log booms lie in the river the man whom he had
never known before, but whose letter had interested him enough to
warrant the journey and the interview.

Will Turk was a tall and loose-jointed man with a melancholy and almost
ministerial face, enhanced in gravity by the jet-black hair that grew