The horse and man which might have been seen threading the woods at
early daybreak on the following morning, might have set for a picture of
one of Sherman's bummers. For a month afterward Jim's mother bemoaned
the unaccountable absence of a tin pail, a meal-bag, two or three
blankets, her only pair of scissors, and sundry other useful articles,
while her sorrow was increased by the fact that she had to replenish her
household stores sooner than she had expected.

The sheriff examined so eagerly the articles which Jim deposited in
rapid succession on the cabin-floor, that Jim had nothing to do but look
at the sheriff, which he did industriously, though not exactly to his
heart's content. At last the sheriff looked up, and Jim saw two eyes
full of tears, and a pair of lips which parted and trembled in a manner
very unbecoming in a sheriff.

"Don't, please," said Jim, appealingly. "I wish I could have done
better for _you_, but somehow I couldn't think of nothin' in the house
that was fit for a woman, except the scissors."

"Don't think about me at all," said the sheriff, quickly.

"I care for nothing for myself. Forget that I'm alive."

"I--I can't," stammered Jim, looking as guilty as forty counterfeiters
rolled into one. The sheriff turned away quickly, while the father
called Jim to his side.

"Young man," said he, "you've been as good as an angel could have been,
but if you suspect _her_ a minute of being my accomplice, may heaven