A great sense of relief filled the boy. At all events, he had not killed anybody! There was even a second in which he cherished wild hope that what he had seen had been merely a vision raised by some trick of over-taxed nerves. But the hope was doomed to swift dismissal. There was blood on the dried leaves on the ground—not much blood, to be sure, but enough to make a fresh, dark stain.
Kneeling, Sam examined the sanguinary traces very carefully. As he rose, his expression curiously combined satisfaction and bewilderment. It was manifest that the stranger’s wound had neither bled copiously nor crippled him; and that he had been able to make off. But whither had he gone? Why had he not charged across the gully? And why had he not raised a warning shout to prevent a second shot?
“Jiminy!” said Sam to himself. “Jiminy! but I don’t believe he got sight of me at all! I was covered by the bushes, and there was hardly any smoke, and if he were looking another way—why—why——” He broke off, frankly unable to weigh and decide the probabilities of the strange affair.
There still remained the possibility of finding and following the man’s trail; but Sam was not especially skilled in such matters. He fancied that for a few yards he could make out evidences of somebody forcing a way through the undergrowth, but then he came to a sort of woods path along the backbone of the ridge, and there lost the slender clews upon which he had depended. Certainly he could discover no more drops of blood.
Sam went back to the trampled space, and searched it minutely from end to end, and from side to side. He had his trouble for his pains. He found nothing to throw light upon the mystery.
“Well, this does beat me!” he confessed, and shook his head in perplexity. “I never heard of anything like it. And I don’t want to hear of anything like it again—ugh!” He gave a little shiver. “I know when I’ve had enough—and too much. I’m going home, and I’m going to get there, and put up this gun, as quick as my legs will carry me to the house. And you can bet I’m going to keep quiet about this. And—and I hope the other fellow will keep quiet, too. Come now, Sam Parker! Brace up! Forward march!”
Thus encouraging himself, Master Sam set off at a round pace for the highway, but when he reached it his speed lessened. He had a new sense of merciful escape from perils when he was out of the dark woods and in the open road; and with it came a peculiar weakness and uncertainty in his knees. He was glad to sit down on a boulder beside the ditch and rest for what seemed to him a long, long time. Finally he rose, and trudged toward the town. He went slowly, and his face was thoughtful.
CHAPTER IV
THE CLUB GETS A NEW NAME
It was well after noon when Sam came up the narrow lane behind the Parker place, and scaled the back fence. Hasty observation from its top showed him that the coast was clear. He stole through the yard, kept the house between himself and the barn, and let himself in at the front door.
The house was as quiet as well ordered homes generally are at that hour, when dinner has been disposed of, and supper is still afar off. Sam tiptoed into the library. With feverish haste he put his father’s gun in its place, first removing the cartridges from the breach. Then he opened the desk drawer, and restored his stock of cartridges to their box. He hesitated a moment over the empty shell, being, indeed, tempted to slip it in with the rest. At a casual glance the box would then seem to be full. But Sam, with all his imperfections, was not given to tricks and deceits.