NOVEMBER JOE
things pointed, conclusively it seemed to me, in one direction. And yet I knew that almost from the beginning of the inquiry November had decided that Black was innocent. Frankly, I could make neither head nor tail of it.
The evening turned raw, and the thin snow was softening, and though I was weary of my watch I was still dreaming when I started under a hand that touched my shoulder.
Joe was crouching at my side. He warned me to caution, but I could not refrain from a question as to where he had been.
"Down to the store at Lavette," he whispered. "I was talking about that search-warrant—pretty high-handed I said it was, and the boys agreed to that."
Then commenced a second vigil. The sun went down behind the tree roots, and was succeeded by the little cold wind that often blows at that hour. Yet we lay in our ambush as the dusk closed quickly about us, nor did we move until a slight young moon was sending level rays between clouds that were piling swiftly in the sky.
After a while Joe touched me to wakefulness,
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