“It looked that way,” muttered the other, glancing toward the cabin with a world of commiseration in his eyes, “and whatever the memories may be it aroused, I’m afraid they couldn’t be happy ones.”
“Somebody he knew once owned such a knife, and he asked to see it so as to make certain,” pursued the wise Wee Willie, reflectively. “Yes, and I reckon he found the proof he was looking for, too. Let’s see the thing again, Elmer.”
“I know what he found, all right,” the other assured him. “Here, you can see that there are two letters roughly scratched on the buckhorn handle.”
“What are the letters?” insisted the tall chum, who when interested in a subject was a difficult one to make let go.
“No use trying to hide anything from you, Wee Willie,” Elmer replied. “They are not fashioned very elegantly, for the handle is rough, you see; but as near as I can make them out the letters are S. C.”
The elongated boy pursed his lips as if intending to whistle; but evidently thinking better of it failed to emit a single sound.
“And his name, it’s Codling, remember,” he whispered, with a quick look over in the quarter where the lone cabin stood under the big tree.
“Yes, that looks significant for a fact,” agreed the deeply interested Perk, adding immediately afterwards, “Poor chap, I’m awful sorry for him, no matter what the cause of his trouble may be. He was looking quite happy, for him, as he told about that mink he discovered peeking out of its hole under the bank; but when he saw the knife, and heard what Elmer said, the smile froze on his face, you might almost say. I wish I could help him some way.”
“None of us can do a thing until he makes the first move,” warned Elmer, with a determined shake of his head. “I’ve felt this coming for some time, and wished he’d make a confidant of me, but up to now he hasn’t seen fit to do so.”
“Oh! what is that?” asked Perk, in almost awed tones.