Tired with his journey, splashed with mud, his face red with anger, he entered the office and demanded the gray horse. “Was it your horse that the boy took?” inquired the superintendent. “Course it was,” replied Captain Bill, with a fine pretence of indignation. “Where did you get the horse?” was the next question. “Bought ’im.” “Where?” “Right here in Ellenville.” “From whom?” Rosencamp hesitated a little. “I don’t rightly know the man’s name,” he said. “A feller ’at had ’im to sell.” “I know!” piped out a shrill voice from the crowd that had gathered in the room. “It was Callipers, the man that’s been in prison for horse-stealing. I see ’em strike the bargain here on the tow-path yisterday.” Rosencamp lost something of his bravado. The kindly look disappeared from the face of the superintendent. “Did you get this horse from Callipers?” he asked severely. “Well, yes, if that’s what ’is name is,” replied Captain Bill, doggedly. “Don’t you know that Callipers has been convicted of horse-stealing?” “I don’t know’s I do.” “And didn’t you know that this horse had been stolen?” “If I had ’a’ knowed it, do you s’pose I’d ’a’ took ’im? Who says it was a stolen hoss, anyhow?” added Captain Bill, looking the crowd over savagely. “I say so,” said a man who had just entered the room. “I saw Callipers arrested last night for stealing the horse he traded to Bill Rosencamp. The constable has the irons on him now, and the sheriff has gone across to Port Jervis to head off the horse.” “Well, Rosencamp,” said the superintendent, “what have you to say to that?” “If the hoss was stole,” said Rosencamp, “how was I to know it? Nobody told me it was stolen.” “Yes, somebody did tell you!” exclaimed Joe. “I told you the horse was stolen, and the man you got him of stood right there an’ didn’t deny it, either! I said it was my father’s horse, an’ it is!” The superintendent turned to Joe. “Who is your father?” he asked. Joe hesitated a moment. Then he replied, “His name is Gaston.” “What Gaston? Do you mean Leonard Gaston, of Laymanville?” “Yes, sir, that’s his name. That’s where he lives.” “And you--look here! Are you the boy who ran away from home last June? I know your father, if you are Joseph Gaston, and I know that he has been breaking his heart about you for three months.” Joe turned his face from the crowd, and looked down at the floor. There was perfect stillness in the room. Joe was the first to break the silence. He held up his head, and looked the superintendent squarely in the face. “I did run away from home,” he said, “and it was foolish and it was wicked. I didn’t know it then, but I do now, and I want to go back, especially since I found the horse. I think maybe if I take Old Charlie back with me they--they won’t be so hard on me; they--they’ll be gladder to--to--” The boy burst into tears, and broke down completely. The superintendent rose from his chair, and opened the door into a private office.