“I suppose I’ve been out quite a time, and I may say I’ve seen times, too!  I guess there ain’t no one in the town fitter to say they seen times than just me!”

The light and comfort of his own pleasant kitchen had quite restored Mr. Shrimplin.

“I may say I seen times!” he repeated significantly.  “There’s something doing in this here old town after all!  I take back a heap of the hard things I’ve said about it; a feller can scare up a little excitement if he knows where to look for it.  I ain’t bragging none, but I guess you’ll hear my name mentioned—­I guess you’ll even see it in print in the newspapers!” He warmed his cold hands over the stove.  “Throw in a little more coal, sonny; I’m half froze, but I guess that’s the worst any one can say of me!”

“You make much of it, whatever it is,” said Mrs. Shrimplin.

“Maybe I do and maybe I don’t,” equivocated Mr. Shrimplin genially.

“Maybe you’re not above telling a body what kept you out half the night?” inquired his wife.

“If you done and seen what I’ve did and saw,” replied Mr. Shrimplin impressively, “you’d look for a little respect in your own home.”

“I’d be a heap quicker telling about it,” said Mrs. Shrimplin.

Mr. Shrimplin turned to Custer.

“I guess, you’re thinking it was a burglar; but, sonny, it wasn’t no burglar—­so you got another guess coming to you,” he concluded benevolently.

“I know!” cried Custer.  “Some one’s been killed!”

“Exactly!” said Mr. Shrimplin with increasing benevolence.  “Some one has been killed!”

“You done it!” cried Custer.

“I found the party,” admitted Mr. Shrimplin with calm dignity.

“Oh!” But perhaps Custer’s first emotion was on the whole one of disappointment.

“How you talk!” said Mrs. Shrimplin.

“I reckon I might say more, most any one would,” retorted Mr. Shrimplin quietly.  “It was old man McBride—­someone’s murdered him for his money; I never seen the town so on end over anything before, but whoever wants to be well posted’s got to come to me for the particulars.  I seen the old man before Colonel Harbison seen him, I seen him before Andy Gilmore seen him, I seen him before the coroner seen him, or the sheriff or any one seen him!  I was on the spot ahead of ’em all.  If any one wants to know how he looked just after he was killed, they got to come to me to find out.  Colonel Harbison can’t tell ’em, and Andy Gilmore can’t tell ’em; it’s only me knows them particulars!”

The effect of this stirring declaration was quite all he had hoped for.  Out of the tail of his eye he saw that Mrs. Shrimplin was, as she afterward freely confessed, taken aback.  As for Custer, he had forgotten his disappointment that a death by violence had occurred for which his father was not directly responsible.

“Did you see the man that killed old Mr. McBride?” asked Custer, breaking the breathless spell that was upon him.