"Ax Jim," responded Black Dan, harshly. "I reckon old Jim's makin' a mistake fer once, Tug," drawled Long Jackson, who was Andy's special pal. The Deputy rubbed his lean chin reflectively. There could be no one more above suspicion in his eyes than this transparently honest young giant from the Oromocto. But Jim's curious action had scattered to the winds, at least for a moment, a sort of hypothesis which he had been building up in his mind. At the same time, he felt dimly that a new clue was being held out to him, if he could only grasp it. He wanted time to think. "We kin all make mistakes," he announced sententiously. "Come here, Jim. Seek 'im, boy, seek 'im." And he waved his hand at large. Jim bounced off with a joyous yelp, and began quartering the ground, hither and thither, all about the tree. Big Andy, at a complete loss for words, stood staring from one to another with eyes of indignant and incredulous reproach. Suddenly a yelp of triumph was heard in the bushes, a little way down towards the lake, and Jim came racing back with a dark magenta article in his mouth. At the foot of the tree he stopped, and looked at Blackstock interrogatively. Receiving no sign whatever from his master, whose face had lit up for an instant, but was now as impassive as a hitching-post, he stared at Black Dan for a few seconds, and then let his eyes wander back to Andy's face. In the midst of his obvious hesitation the Oromocto man stepped forward. "Durned ef that ain't one o' my old mittens," he exclaimed eagerly, "what Sis knit fer me. I've been lookin' fer 'em everywheres. Bring it here, Jim." As the dog trotted up with it obediently, the Deputy intervened and stopped him. "You shall have it bime-by, Andy," said he, "ef it's yourn. But jest now I don't want nobody to tech it except Jim. Ef you acknowledge it's yourn----" "_Of course_ it's mine," interrupted Andy resentfully. "An' I want to find the other one." "So do I," said Blackstock. "Drop it, Jim. Go find the other mitt." As Jim went ranging once more through the bushes, the whole party moved around to the other side of the tree to get out of the downpour of the noon sun. As they passed the magenta mitten Black Dan picked it up and examined it ostentatiously. "How do ye know it's yourn, Andy?" he demanded. "There's lots of magenta mitts in the world, I reckon." Tug Blackstock turned upon him. "I said I didn't want no one to tech that mitt," he snapped. "Oh, beg pardon, Tug," said Dan, dropping the mitt. "I forgot. 'Spose it might kind o' confuse Jim's scent, gittin' another smell besides Andy's on to it." "It might," replied the Deputy coolly, "an' then agin, it mightn't."