"I don't ask ye to."
The tramp polished the blade of his huge knife on his greasy sleeve.
"I might spill a little blood I s'pose," he muttered aloud, "but I reckin
I'll let you live awhile yet."
Then he turned as if to depart.
"Don't go yet," cried the young cottage-owner, as his eye caught sight of a man approaching from the wood road. His thought was that with help he might capture the tramp.
"Wal, why not?"
Perry Jounce halted.
"I want you to answer a few questions."
"Heave ahead."
"Tell me what you know about my poor Victoria's death. You were here just before."