“There, there, Cap'n Baxter,” said Mrs. Snow soothingly, laying her hand on the sick man's forehead. Somehow, the touch seemed to quiet him; his eyes lost their fire, and he muttered absently that he was tired. Then the eyes closed and he lay still, breathing heavily. “Land of love!” exclaimed the Captain. “That was awful! Hadn't I better go for the doctor?” “I don't think so, unless he gits worse. He had jest such a turn, as I told you, last night.” “Did he talk like he did jest now?” “Jest the same.” “'Bout the same things?” “Yes.” The Captain gasped. “Then you knew!” he said. “That he set the billiard room afire? Yes. I've always rather suspicioned that he did, and last night, of course, made me sure of it.” “Well, well! You haven't said nothin' 'bout it to anybody?” “Of course not.” “No, 'course you haven't. You must excuse me--I'm kind of upset, I guess. Dear! dear! Did you think _I_ knew it?” “I sort of guessed that you did.” “Well, I did. I've known it ever sence that night he was found. He had his coat on when I found him, and 'twas all burnt, and there was an empty kerosene bottle in his pocket. I hid the coat, and threw the bottle away, and turned him so he was facin' towards the saloon 'stead of from it. And I lied when I told the doctor that he was jest as he fell. There! the murder's out! Now, what do you think of me?” “Think? I think you did exactly right.” “You DO?” “I sartinly do.” “Well, I snum! I've been over that thing time and time again, and I've felt like I was sort of a firebug myself sometimes. I've heard folks layin' it to fust one and then the other, and cal'latin' that Web did it himself to git the insurance, and all the time I've known who really did do it, and haven't said anything. I jest couldn't. You see, John and me's been brothers almost. But I didn't s'pose anybody else would see it the same way.” “Cap'n Eri, do you s'pose I blame you for tryin' to keep your best friend out of trouble that he got into by bein'--well--out of his head. Why, land of mercy! He ain't no more to be held responsible than a baby. You did what I'd have done if I'd been in your place, and I respect you for it.” The Captain's voice shook as he answered: “Marthy Snow,” he said, “you're the kind of woman that I'd like to have had for a sister.” It was perhaps a half-hour later when Captain Eri started for the schoolhouse to bring Elsie home. John Baxter had not wakened, and Mrs. Snow said she was not afraid to remain alone with him. The thaw had turned to a light rain and the Captain carried an umbrella. It was dark by this time, and when he came in sight of the schoolhouse he saw a light in the window. One of the scholars--a by no means brilliant one--whose principal educational achievement was the frequency with which he succeeded in being “kept after school,” was seated on the fence, doing his best to whittle it to pieces with a new jackknife. “Hello, sonny!” said the Captain. “Miss Preston gone yit?”