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The
old
hunter
makes
pause
,
drawing
a
long
breath
--
as
if
to
prepare
himself
for
a
full
spell
of
confession
.
No
one
attempts
either
to
interrupt
or
urge
him
on
.
There
is
an
impression
that
he
can
unravel
the
mystery
of
the
murder
.
That
of
the
Headless
Horseman
no
longer
needs
unravelling
.
"
Wal
,
fellur
citizens
!
"
continues
Zeb
,
assuming
a
changed
style
of
apostrophe
,
"
arter
what
I
heerd
,
an
more
especially
what
I
seed
,
I
knowd
that
poor
young
Peint
wur
gone
under
--
struck
down
in
his
tracks
--
wiped
out
o
'
the
world
.
"
I
knowd
equally
well
thet
he
who
did
the
cowardly
deed
wa
n't
,
an
ked
n't
be
,
the
mowstanger
--
Maurice
Gerald
.
"
Who
war
it
,
then
?
Thet
war
the
questyun
thet
bamboozled
me
,
as
it
's
done
the
rest
o
'
ye
--
them
as
haint
made
up
thur
minds
'
ithout
reflekshun
.
"
Wal
;
thinkin
'
as
I
did
that
the
Irish
wur
innocent
,
I
bekim
detarmined
to
diskiver
the
truth
.
I
ai
n't
goin
'
to
say
thet
appearances
wa
n't
agin
him
.
They
wur
dog-gonedly
agin
him
.
"
For
all
thet
,
I
wa
n't
goin
'
to
rely
on
them
;
an
so
I
tuk
purayra
to
hev
a
squint
at
the
sign
.
"
I
knowd
thur
must
be
hoss-tracks
leadin
'
to
the
place
,
an
hoss
tracks
goin
'
from
it
;
an
damn
'em
!
thur
wur
too
many
o
'
'em
,
goin
'
everywhur
--
else
the
thing
mout
a
been
eezy
enough
.
"
But
thar
wur
one
partickler
set
I
'd
got
a
down
upon
;
an
them
I
detarmined
to
foller
up
to
the
eend
o
'
creashun
.
"
They
war
the
footmarks
o
'
an
Amerikin
hoss
,
hevin
'
three
shoes
to
the
good
,
an
a
fourth
wi
'
a
bit
broken
off
the
eend
o
'
it
.
This
hyur
's
the
eyedentikul
piece
o
'
iron
!
"
