"The lad's in deeper trouble, I'm afraid, than he understands," said he at last, as if continuing his reflections aloud, "and it may take a bigger heave to pull him out than any of us think right now." "Oh, I hope not," said Alice, looking across at him suddenly, her eyes wide open with concern. "I understood that this was just a preliminary proceeding, a sort of formality to conform to the legal requirements, and that he would be released when they brought him up before Judge Maxwell. At least, that was the impression that he gave me of the case himself." "Joe is an unsophisticated and honest lad," said the colonel. "There is something in the case that he refused to disclose or discuss before the coroner's jury, they say. I don't know what it is, but it's in relation to the quarrel between him and Isom Chase which preceded the tragedy. He seems to raise a point of honor on it, or something. I heard them say this afternoon that it was nothing but the fear that it would disclose his motive for the crime. They say he was making off with old Chase's money, but I don't believe that." "They're wrong if they think that," said she, shaking her head seriously, "he'd never do a thing like that." "No, I don't believe he would. But they found a bag of money in the room, old Chase had it clamped in the hook of his arm, they say." "Well, I'm sure Joe Newbolt never had his hands on it, anyhow," said she. "That's right," approved the colonel, nodding in slow thoughtfulness; "we must stand up for him, for his own sake as well as Peter's. He's worthy." "And he's innocent. Can't you see that, father?" "As plain as daylight," the colonel said. The colonel stretched out his legs toward the blaze, crossed his feet and smoked in comfort. "But I wonder what it can be that the boy's holding back?" "He has a reason for it, whatever it is," she declared. "That's as certain as taxes," said the colonel. "He's a remarkable boy, considering the chances he's had--bound out like a nigger slave, and beaten and starved, I'll warrant. A remark-able lad; very, very. Don't you think so, Alice?" "I think he is, indeed," said she. A long silence. A stick in the chimney burned in two, the heavy ends outside the dogs dropped down, the red brands pointing upward. The colonel put his hand to his beard and sat in meditation. The wind was rising. Now and then it sounded like a groan in the chimney-top. Gray ashes formed, frost-like, over the ardent coals. The silence between them held unbroken. Both sat, thought-wandering, looking into the fire.... CHAPTER XIII UNTIL THE DAY BREAK Although Isom Chase had been in his grave a week, and Judge Little had been cracking his coat-tails over the road between his home and the county-seat daily, the matter of the will and the administration of the estate remained as in the beginning.