"Now, let's figger it out. We got enough fac's now to point purty conclusive to who done it. Yes, sir."
"Why, Ike, I don't see that," observed Mr. Howbridge.
"But you will, Mister, in a minute or so," declared the old man, nodding with confidence. "Now, look you: Whoever was in this here house and made that fire in Miz' Birdsall's sittin'-room, was here when your people came day before yesterday."
"But you found that key in your cabin, did you not?"
"Yes. But I tell you I've figgered that out. Whoever 'twas come here, got the key, come in here, opened the back door, and then locked the front door on the outside same as always."
"Wait! No buts about it," interrupted the woodsman. "I got it figgered to a fare-you-well, I tell you. Now! The feller locked the front door, went back to my shanty and hung up the key, and then came back in by the rear door. See? He--ahem!--was in here when that man, Hedden, of yours, and the others, come."
"But there were no footprints of human beings about the house in the snow."
"That's all right. The feller that built the fire upstairs had done all his walking around before the snow fell the day after I went to Ebettsville. Don't you see? He didn't leave here because his footprints would be seen, and he couldn't lock the house up behind him if he did leave and make it look as though it had never been opened."
"You are guessing at a lot of this!" exclaimed the lawyer, not at all convinced.
"No. I'm jest figgerin'. Now, this Neale boy here heard that shot fired upstairs that killed the fox. He went up this mornin' and saw where the shot was fired from. I seen it, too. So the feller that opened the Lodge and that lit the fire was up there at ten or half past last evening, for sure."
"He didn't go out during the night, or his footprints would have been seen by John this morning in the new-fallen snow."
"It is right!" said the old man vigorously. "Now we come to this here dog you brought."
"Oh, yes!" cried Mr. Howbridge. "How about Tom Jonah? Surely if there had been a stranger about--one who stole food from the pantry--he would have interfered."
"Mebbe he would. And mebbe again he wouldn't. He's a mighty friendly dog."
"But he is a splendid watchdog," interposed Neale O'Neil.