"What d'you mean?" demanded the old man, eyeing him shrewdly.

"Well, I thought when I heard the shot and the fox was killed that the explosion was right over my head."

"What's that? Over your head! In the attic?"

"That is where the shot came from--yes."

"Air you positive?" drawled the old man.

"I went up there this morning and saw the place where the fellow had rested the barrel of his gun across the window sill to shoot."

"My! My!" muttered Ike thoughtfully. "And there wasn't n.o.body up there this morning?"

"No. And I asked Hedden, and he said neither of the other men knew how to use a gun and that they all were in bed at the time the fox was shot."

"Do tell!" muttered the woodsman. "Then they--well, the feller that shot the fox was up there in the attic about bedtime, was he?"

"Yes. Who do you suppose he was, Mr. M'Graw?" asked Neale curiously.

"Well, I wouldn't want to make a guess. This here man workin' in the kitchen tells me that there wasn't a foot mark in the snow at all when he got up and went out of the back door here the fust time this morning. And, of course, there wasn't no footprints at the front of the house, was there?"

"Oh, no! Not until after breakfast time."

"Uh-huh! Well, after this John had tramped back an' forth to the woodshed and the like half a dozen times, anybody could have gone out of here without their footprints being noticed. Ain't that a fac'?"

He said this to himself more than to Neale, who had become vastly interested in the subject. He eagerly watched the old man's weather-beaten face.

Suddenly the woodsman raised his head and looked at Neale thoughtfully. He asked a question that seemed to have nothing at all to do with the subject in hand.

"What kind of a dog is this here Tom Jonah?" Ike demanded. "Ain't he got no nose?"

CHAPTER XVIII

FIGURING IT OUT

Of course Ike M'Graw could see for himself very easily that Tom Jonah had a nose. It was pointed just then at the fox pelt in the old woodsman's hands, and was wrinkled as the dog sniffed at the skin.

So Neale O'Neil knew that the man meant something a little different from what he said. He, in fact, wanted to know if Tom Jonah was keen on the scent, and Neale answered him to that end.

"We think he's got a pretty good nose, Mr. M'Graw, for a Newfoundland.

Of course, Tom Jonah is not a hunting dog. If he runs a rabbit he runs him by sight, not by scent. But give him something that one of the children wears, and he'll hunt that child out, as sure as sure! They play hide and seek with him just as though he were one of themselves--only Tom Jonah is always 'it.'"

"Uh-huh?" grunted the old man. Then he said: "Don't seem as though any stranger could have come down from the attic and got through that hall yonder without this dog making some sort of racket."

"I never thought of Tom Jonah," admitted Neale.

"He was in here all night, they tell me," went on Ike.

"Yes. But didn't the kitchen man, John, let him out when he first came downstairs this morning?"

"No. I asked him. He said the dog didn't seem to want to go out. He opened that door yonder into this back kitchen and called the dog.

This here dog come to the door, but he did not want to go out and turned away. So John shut the door again."

"Crackey!" exclaimed Neale. "Then there was somebody in here, and don't you forget it, Mr. M'Graw!"

"Uh-huh? But why didn't the dog give tongue? Was it somebody the dog knowed? You see, son, there's been food stole from that pantry yonder durin' the night. Could it be the feller that shot the fox from the attic winder was right in here when John called the dog, loadin' up his knapsack with grub?"

"Why--why--"

"This dog must ha' knowed him--eh?"

"I--I suppose so. But who could it be?" demanded Neale with wondering emphasis. "Surely it was none of our servants. And Luke Shepard and Sammy and I were in bed in one room. The girls--Mr. Howbridge--Mrs.

MacCall--"

"I guess," said the old man, grinning, "that the lady and that lawyer man can be counted out of it. None of you brought a twenty-two rifle with you, anyway."

"No."

"That's what the fox was shot with. Here's the pellet," and Ike brought the little flattened lead bullet out of his vest pocket. "If it hadn't been a good shot--spang through the brain--'twould never have killed the fox. He had his head on one side, yappin', and that bullet took him right.

"Now, better keep still about this. No use frightening the ladies.

Girls an' women is easy frightened, I expect. I'll speak again to Mr.

Howbridge about it. But this here dog--"

He shook his head over Tom Jonah's shortcomings, while Neale ran away to wash his hands and face before appearing at the lunch table.

The children around the table were in something of an uproar. Mrs.

MacCall and Ruth were obliged to be firm in order to quiet Sammy, and Tess, and Dot.

For Agnes, unable to keep anything to herself, had blurted out all about the lovely sled-ride the older ones had enjoyed. Immediately the three younger children decided that they had been cheated.

"We wanted to go tobogganing, too," Tess declared.

"I just _love_ sliding downhill," wailed Dot.

"Huh!" sniffed Sammy Pinkney. "A feller can't have no fun where there's big fellers and big girls. They always put you down, and leave you out of the best things."

"You shall go sliding tomorrow if the snow holds off," Ruth promised.

"Why not this afternoon, Ruthie?" begged Tess.

"Sister's got something else to do this afternoon. Wait until tomorrow," the oldest Kenway replied.

"It's snowing already," muttered Sammy disconsolately.