"No, I didn't. You see, I hain't seed nobody but the bear, un she wuz the ign'rantest critter. Could n't tell me nuthin'." And Bob laughed at his own wit, as was his custom. "How 'd it go?" Bob had wanted to ask this question, but he wished to let Uncle Lazar begin. "Well, I hyern f'om Raphe Jackson, thes now, that the jury said 's Lockwood come to 'is final eend ut the han's uv Tom Grayson, ur sumpin like that; un they said 't wuz reg'lar bloody murder in the fust degree. My! ef that wuz n't a mad crowd! They made a rush fer Grayson, but the depitty shurriff 'd got 'im away. Ef they 'd 'a' cotcht him they would n't 'a' made two bites uv him." "You don't say!" Bob was a little stunned. He had not thought of Tom's being at the inquest. He felt that perhaps in coming away he had made a mistake that had come near to being a fatal one. "They wuz thes a-howlin', Raphe said, un they had n't lef' the place when he come away. They wuz made madder by the way the young scoundrel stood up un _de_clared 't he did n' know nuthin' about the murder, arter 't wuz proved on him, plain 's the nose on a man's face, an' the dead man a-layin' right thar afore 'is own eyes." Bob was in a brown study, and nothing was said on either side for half a minute. It made Bob uncomfortable to reflect that he had come near losing the game at the outset. "I 'low 't 'll go hard weth the young feller to-night." This roused McCord from the reverie produced from his surprise. "I reckoned the boys'u'd be a-goin' to Moscow to-night," he said; and added, "Let 'em go!" And then he laughed as though he knew something. "Say, Bob," said Uncle Lazar, whose curiosity was piqued beyond endurance, "what's in the wind? What wuz it fotcht you all the way over h-yer un the eenquest a-goin' on so closte to your house?" "Had n' got no meat," said Bob, with a wink. "They's sumpin more'n _that ar_. You've got sumpin ur nuther on Jake, I'll bet." "I 'ke speck you know a whole lot, Uncle Lazar," said Bob. "I sh'd think you'd jest right up un guess now." "Well, I can't seem to." "Well, I'm not a-goin' to let 't out, Uncle Lazar, 'thout this 'ere whisky uh yourn's a leetle _too_ powerful fer me." Bob did not fear the whisky: it was rare that whisky could get the better of such a frame as his; and, moreover, he was inured to it. He only threw out this hint to persuade his host to be more liberal in dispensing it. But it appeared that Lazar's liberality with his whisky was probably exhausted; and Bob rose to go, affecting to be unsteady on his legs. "Seddown, Bob; seddown, while I see about the mar'." "Well, I 'low I will, Uncle Lazar. That air whisky uh yourn has sort-uh settled into my feet a leetle." Lazar went out to see if the boy had brought the horse, making a signal to his daughter to try her skill at coaxing Bob to tell. Meantime Bob ogled S'manthy, who, like Delilah, was debating how she could win this Samson's secret. Presently he said, in a half-tipsy tone: