"I received that fourteen dollars not ten minutes ago from a merchant in this village. He will vouch for it if you ask him," he said, quietly, though his eyes flashed fire.
"Just mention his name, if you please. I might take a notion to drop in and see if he corroborates your assertion. As I am a magistrate as well as a lawyer, it is my bounden duty to make sure there is nothing crooked in such transactions as come under my observation. Who is the man?"
He tried to look stern, but the attempt was a failure. Nature had made Mr. Quarles only to appear small and mean.
"It was Mr. Ketcham, the hardware man," the boy answered.
"And what would he be paying you this munificent sum for? So far as I know you have never worked for Ketcham, boy. Now, be careful not to commit yourself. What was this money given to you for doing?"
Darry smiled as he drew out a paper.
How fortunate that the hardware merchant who sold traps and purchased such furs as were taken in that region had insisted upon giving him a little bill of sale, in order to bind the transaction, and prove conclusively what the reigning price happened to be at the time.
"Please glance at that, sir."
Darius Quarles did so, and a shade of disappointment crossed his face.
"I see you have taken up the same foolish pursuit that young Joe Peake followed—wasting your time loafing in the marsh when you had better be going to school and perhaps learning to become a useful man, a lawyer like myself for instance."