On the way Seth Bissett tarried for a friendly chat at the gate of a certain young lady, but found her unusually distant. So much so that in spite of his innocence of the cause, he deemed it prudent not to prolong his visit. Warren Sours went home; and as he entered the house with a jocular remark about the contaminated state of the atmosphere he was informed that until his arrival it had been quite satisfactory. Retirement to the stable followed; and with the aid of a lantern he finally found in each of his hip pockets a pasty smear, that from the presence of a small piece of tinfoil in addition to certain other deductions, he took to be the remnants of a piece of superannuated limburger cheese. Further evidences were found inside his hatband, and under the innersole of each of his shoes, but not until several days later.
Subsequent inquiry developed that none of the persons at the pool that night had been spared, although no two were attacked in the same place. Two days elapsed before Seth Bissett found a thin layer of the "dreadful" inside the lining of his favorite necktie, and in the meantime he had nearly hated himself to death. It was a week before Chuck Smith located a smear in the back of his watchcase, and during all that time he was haunted by a suspicion that he was no longer good company for man or beast. After changing his entire wardrobe several times in an effort to forget that fatal swim, Bob Beach found when he had occasion to use his purse a few days later that all his money, though honestly earned, had become badly tainted.
Nobody seemed to be able to account for the mysterious attack. Some of the swimmers accused each other, only to arouse vigorous denial, and there was no proof. But Seth Bissett had his suspicions, and they were well founded.
If Mrs. Cane had known of the pollution that swept over the swimming-hole that night, she would doubtless have supposed that Sube was attacked in common with the others; for he came home reeking of a loathsome odor that he was unable to account for. But, of course, Mrs. Cane heard little of the swimming-hole gossip.
"What have you been doing!" she exclaimed as Sube came into the room.
"Never mind about that," growled his father. "Where are you going just about as fast as you can get there!"
Sube looked from one of his parents to the other in utter surprise. "What have I done now?" he asked.
"Heaven only knows!" Mr. Cane exploded. "But do get out of this room with it!"
"With what?" asked the amazed boy, holding out his empty hands. "I ain't got an'thing."
Mr. Cane mangled the air with gestures of futility while his wife laid aside her embroidery and stood up.