“And we’ve found out what poisoned the horses,” Jack said.
“Who did it?” Tom shouted, jumping to his feet.
“Don’t get excited,” Jack cautioned, as he pushed him back into the chair. “I said ‘what’ not ‘who,’” and he proceeded to tell him how Bob had found and proved that it was arsenic.
“We’ve got to give Sam a lot of credit for it,” Bob interrupted. “It was really he who discovered the stuff.”
“Sam’s a mighty fine bye even if he’s a breed,” Tom declared. “And it’s meself thot’s bettin’ thot the rascle won’t git anither chance while he’s thar.”
“But what do you think we’d better do, Tom?” Bob asked.
“Sure and thot’s hard ter say,” Tom answered reflectively. “If we could find out who sold the stuff and who bought it, we’d sure have a bunch o’ cir—cir—, what the blazes is thot kind o’ ividence when yer don’t know nothin’ but think yer know it all?”
“I guess you mean circumstantial evidence,” Bob laughed.
“Sure and thot’s the woid,” and both Tom and Jack joined in the laughter at the former’s expense.
“If we could find the bottle or box, or whatever the stuff was in, it would probably help a lot,” Bob suggested. “But I don’t suppose there’s much hope of that,” he added mournfully.