"Lost your pipe, Abe?" Kiddie inquired, thrusting a hand into his own side pocket.
"No," Abe answered. "I got it in my hand. I was feelin' for my matches."
"Oh, then," returned Kiddie, withdrawing his hand and producing a briar, "this ain't yours that I found?"
Abe looked at the pipe and shook his head.
"That ain't mine," he said. "Where'd you pick it up, Kiddie?"
"In the spare canoe, when I went down to have a bathe. I supposed you'd left it there."
"Ain't used that canoe since you've bin away," said Abe. "Nobody's used it, only Isa, when he went out on the lake t' look for you that time. Mebbe it's Isa's."
But the sheriff also shook his head.
"'Tain't mine," he said, glancing at the pipe, which Kiddie had pushed along the table.
Rube Carter took hold of it and began to clear the stale tobacco out of the bowl with the point of his pocket knife.