“I could have told ye the last, Uncle Elk,” said Mike, “for there isn’t anybody who doesn’t feel that way.”
“Well said,” commented Scout Master Hall, “and it is true.”
The old gentleman bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment.
“You may suspect I am guessing, but I am not. When the man entered and saw that the owner was absent, he made himself at home, as I wish every one to do while awaiting my return. I suppose it was natural that he should be struck by my little library. He examined some of the books, and while doing so used the fingers of his right hand to scratch his beard, as a man often does unconsciously. He withdrew four of the volumes from the shelf, but was not much interested in them, for he replaced them, lighted a perfecto cigar, sat down in my easy chair, smoked a little while, with the chair gently rocking, then with his cigar half consumed, he passed out of the door and down the path to where he had left his canoe and paddled across the lake.”
Even with the assurance given by Uncle Elk, some of his listeners found it hard to credit all he said. He looked calmly into the array of faces, well aware of what was in the minds of his callers. He expected a question and Mr. Hall asked it:
“We know that all you have told us is true, because you said it was. They recall so vividly some of the ‘deductions’ of Sherlock Holmes that I hope you will enlighten us as to your methods.”
“What doubt has occurred to you?”
“You detected the faint disturbances made by the visitor’s feet, where he did not keep to the middle of the path. These told you the shoes were those of a white man, because, I presume of their fashionable make, and they showed that he came from and returned to the lake, but what warrant have you for saying he carried a rod?”
“He leaned it against the front of the house at the side of the steps where the imprint plainly shows. It was natural for him to do that instead of carrying it inside.”
“Why do you decide that he is a man in middle life?”