The farmer's eyes flitted to Faircloth's face and back down to the table. "I already told you twenty times. Why do you pick on me?" he whined. "I couldn't help it he happened to stop here. Heard him on the porch about ten o'clock at night--I was just gettin' ready for bed. And he said he was travelin' and wanted something to eat. We don't see strangers around here very often, Mister--" he looked up at Faircloth fearfully. "I--I looked at him, and he looked all right to me. My eyes were tired, like I said. I couldn't see him too well, but he came in, and ate, and I offered to bed him for the night. He said no, he had to make on for Des Moines." Faircloth watched the man's eyes. "Details, Mr. Bettendorf. You've left some out along the line, haven't you? I have a report here that was filed by our field team that talked to you." He pulled out a sheaf of papers in the dim kitchen light. "Says something about your dog barking." The farmer's face went white. "There anything wrong with that? I reckon the dog did bark. I don't remember." "And you went to open the door, and the stranger was there, eh?" The farmer nodded his head eagerly. "I told you everything--" "And you brought him in and fed him and then sent him on his way?" "That's right, that's what I done." "You're a liar," said Faircloth. He eyed the man coldly. "Try the story over again. Once more now." The farmer jolted to his feet, his eyes feverish. "I done just like I told you. I didn't tell no lie. I heard the dog yelping--" "And you opened the door and there was a stranger there." Faircloth's voice was sharp. "Then what happened? Step by step. Minute by minute. I mean it, mister, I want the truth." "I--I looked at him--" "What light did you have?" "This here same light. Not very much--" "And what did he say?" "He said, 'I'm a traveler and I'd like something to eat.'" "And what did his voice sound like?" The farmer faltered. "It was funny--like gravel in a tin can. A funny kind of voice." "And where was the dog all this time?" The farmer blanched, "He--he done stayed outside. He saw it was all right." "Where's the dog now?" "I sold him. I mean he ran away. You can't keep a dog forever, Mister." Faircloth's face was very near the old man's. "The stranger was out on the porch and you talked to him and let him come in. And then what did you do?" "I--he sat down at the table, I think--I--I--" "You went over to get some food from the stove, didn't you?" "Yes, yes, that's right." "And then you saw blood on his pants, didn't you? And you remembered hearing your dog give a yelp out in the yard, didn't you? The stranger had blood all over his pants and boots, didn't he?" The farmer's eyes were wide with fear. He was shaking his head helplessly. "No--no--" "And so you picked up your gun and you shot him, didn't you?"