"It's a terrible thing," sighed the Woman, "to have a murderer in our
midst and not know who it is. It makes me feel positively creepy." And
again, almost unconsciously, her glance fell upon Baldy.
And so the affair was ended officially. But Baldy could not forget the
sickening suspicion that had rested upon him. In her heart the Woman
felt that he was the culprit; and even "Scotty" had not been absolutely
certain of his innocence. There was only Ben who _knew_.
Forlornly the boy and the dog wandered about throughout that dismal day,
which seemed interminable. Nothing interested them, even the very things
that had made the other days pass so quickly and so happily. Nothing
except gloomily watching Tom, whose actions would have plainly proved
his guilt to "Scotty" had the man not been too absorbed in an
improvement for his sled to take much notice of anything else.
For a brief period the wily criminal had shown a humility as deep as it
was unusual; he had sat on a pile of wood alone, not even romping with
Dick and Harry till he felt the Hour of Judgment had passed. And then,
deciding that there was no punishment forthcoming, he had leaped and
frisked, and seemed so guileless that Baldy's contempt for his own kind
made life hardly worth while.
One might look for such actions from inferior animals--from a cat that
has killed a bird for instance; for cats are only soft-footed, purring
bundles of deceit, with no standard of trail morals.
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