There was silence for a moment. Barney stared at him in amaze. Not until he had caught sight of the constable, whom he knew in his official character, did he understand the full meaning of what had been said. He was under arrest!
As he realized it, everything began to whirl before him. The yellow sunshine, the gorgeously tinted woods, the blue sky, and the silvery mists hovering about the distant mountains, were all confusedly mingled in his failing vision.
He looked as if he were about to faint. But in a few minutes he had partially recovered himself.
"I dunno what this air done ter me fur," he said tremulously, glancing up at the officer whose hand was on his shoulder.
"Hain't ye been doin' nothin' mean lately?" demanded Jim Dow sternly.
Barney shook his head.
"Let's see ef this won't remind ye," said the constable, producing the bit of jeans and the button.
As Nick watched Barney turning the piece of cloth in his hand and examining the button, he felt a terrible pang of remorse. But he was none the less resolved to keep the freedom from danger which he had secured at the expense of his friend. To explain would be merely to exchange places with Barney, and he was silent.
"This hyar looks like a scrap o' my coat," said Barney, utterly unaware of the significance of his words. As he fitted it into the jagged edges of the garment, the officers watched the proceeding closely. "'Pears like ter me ez it war jerked right out thar—yes—kase hyar air the missin' button, too."
His air of unconsciousness puzzled the sheriff. "Do you know where you lost this scrap?" he asked.