We're deep enough in trouble. Otto reads
you too many of them detective stories."
"It will be easy to decide all that, Emmaline," said grandfather quietly.
"If he shot himself in the way they think, the gash will be torn from the
inside outward."
"Just so it is, Mr. Burden," Otto affirmed. "I seen bunches of hair and
stuff sticking to the poles and straw along the roof. They was blown up
there by gunshot, no question."
Grandmother told grandfather she meant to go over to the Shimerdas with
him.
"There is nothing you can do," he said doubtfully. "The body can't be
touched until we get the coroner here from Black Hawk, and that will be a
matter of several days, this weather."
"Well, I can take them some victuals, anyway, and say a word of comfort to
them poor little girls. The oldest one was his darling, and was like a
right hand to him. He might have thought of her. He's left her alone in a
hard world." She glanced distrustfully at Ambrosch, who was now eating his
breakfast at the kitchen table.
Fuchs, although he had been up in the cold nearly all night, was going to
make the long ride to Black Hawk to fetch the priest and the coroner. On
the gray gelding, our best horse, he would try to pick his way across the
country with no roads to guide him.
"Don't you worry about me, Mrs. Burden," he said cheerfully, as he put on
a second pair of socks.
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