I had thought of the book which I had seen Amos reading in the haymow.

Had its contents sunk into his bones ?--for I couldn't help thinking of all that Mr.Hacket had just said about books and thoughts.

My brain had gone back over the events of that tragic moment--the fall, the swift dream, the look of the robber in the dim light, the hurling of the stone.

The man who fled was about the size of Amos, but I had never thought of the latter as the guilty man.
"You saw the crime, I believe," said Mr.Hacket as he turned to me.
I told them all that I knew of it.
"Upon my word, I like you, my brave lad," said the schoolmaster.

"I heard of all this and decided that you would be a help to Michael Henry and a creditable student.