"Just a minute," the biggest policeman said. "We've got a few questions that we have to ask you." Gramp made believe he was brushing some dirt from my pants. "Did anyone see me take the money, Chum?" he whispered to me. "No," I said, even though I didn't understand exactly. "Mr. Van is just pretending he knows you took it but he doesn't." "Good boy." Gramp patted me on the head. "Go into the house now." He turned and walked back to the three men, pushing his wooden leg into the ground hard. I didn't go in the house, though. "Now I've had just about enough of this," Gramp said, with a big frown on his face. "You can't bluff me, Van. Say what you got to say, and get off my property." Mr. Van's shoulders seemed to sag and he got sad. He made the pictures in his mind of Mrs. Van being dead and being put in a big hole. It made me so sorry I couldn't stand it, and I cried, "Tell him you got his money under the seat in our car! Please, Gramp! Give it back to him." Nobody said anything, but everybody turned and looked at me. They stood real still. I saw in Gramp's mind that I had been bad, bad. I ran to him and put my face in his coat and began to cry. I couldn't help it. After a minute Gramp knelt on his good knee in front of me and took my cheeks in both his hands. "I've let you down, Chum," he said. He wasn't mad any more. He picked me up in his arms. "You needed me, Little Joe," he said. "You needed me." His eyes were all smudgy. He squeezed me so hard I couldn't breathe, almost. Then he put me down and said, "Come on," to the two policemen. He walked away between them. Gramp! The pictures in his mind were awful. I could hardly bear to look at them. The worst picture was--me. I cried and cried. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gramp, by Charles V. De Vet