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Updated: May 2, 2025
Andy was in advance, and opening the door he stopped on the threshold with an exclamation of horror. Stretched upon the floor lay Lem Horn, his face and hair smeared with blood, and on the floor near him was a small pool of blood. A chair was overturned, and Lem's legs were tangled in a fish-net. Doctor Joe leaned over the prostrate figure. "Shot," said he, "and from behind!"
If Jethro had indeed instructed Bijah to look after his flock at Coniston, it was an ill-conditioned move, and some of the flock resented it when they were quite sure that Bijah was climbing the notch road toward Clovelly. It was Lem's boast that he never had been and never would be a politician. "Why don't you folks quit railin' against Jethro and do somethin'?" he said.
The boys made ready and said good-bye, spread the sails, and were soon running before a good breeze. Doctor Joe watched them disappear round the island, and returning to Lem's bedside asked: "Lem, do you know what kind of a rifle Indian Jake carried?" "I'm not knowin' rightly," said Lem. "'Twere either a forty-four or a thirty-eight.
He lifted his brother's head and laid it against his own breast; he loosened his shirt and chafed his hands. The sun shone straight into the white face, and the eyelids moved. "Lem! Dear old pal! Speak! Do speak!" Lem's consciousness returned slowly, reluctantly; but he knew his brother's voice. "Joe!" he muttered; "Joe!"
Thinkright's message had not specified the nature of his guest. "The missin' link," replied Cap'n Lem. "Haw, haw, haw!" The pent-up roar burst forth at last. "Father, he hain't brought home a monkey!" Mrs. Lem's consciousness of the trail on her black brilliantine suddenly failed to support her company manner. "Do tell me you're foolin'!" she added acutely.
If Jethro had indeed instructed Bijah to look after his flock at Coniston, it was an ill-conditioned move, and some of the flock resented it when they were quite sure that Bijah was climbing the notch road toward Clovelly. It was Lem's boast that he never had been and never would be a politician. "Why don't you folks quit railin' against Jethro and do somethin'?" he said.
There was some hope that Lem's suspicions were not well founded; nevertheless Doctor Joe was forced to admit to himself that circumstances pointed to Indian Jake as the culprit. It was highly improbable that any one else should have been in the vicinity without Lem's knowledge.
Indian Jake had doubtless travelled much faster in his light canoe, but, at best, with the wind against him, he could hardly have paddled from Lem's cabin to Flat Point in less than two hours. He had arrived one hour after sunset. If Lem were correct as to the time when the shooting took place, Indian Jake could not be guilty.
The wheels ran more and more slowly until it was apparent to all of us that before long they would stop altogether. Susie and Bronson were in New York with little Frank, so that Lem's care during his last days devolved on the haphazard services of the neighbors.
"Not that Fourth Ward stew?" Bella asked eagerly. He nodded. "Lem's kind of died on his feet," she explained in a palpable excuse of her husband's ignorance; "he don't read the papers nor nothing. But of course I've heard of you, Mr. Bowman. We're glad to see you." "Keep right along," Lemuel Doret repeated. His face was dark and his mouth hardly more than a pinched line. "Now, who are you?"
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