I asked where Amos was and Mrs.Grimshaw--a timid, tired-looking, bony little woman who was never seen outside of her own house--said that he was working out on the farm of a Mr.Beekman near Plattsburg.

He had gone over on the stage late in June to hire out for the haying.

I observed that my uncle looked very thoughtful as we rode back home and had little to say.
"You never had any idee who that robber was, did ye ?" he asked by and by.
"No--I could not see plain--it was so dusk," I said.
"I think Purvis lied about the gang that chased him," he said.

"Mebbe he thought they was after him.

In my opinion he was so scairt he couldn't 'a' told a hennock from a handsaw anyway.