"Them tracks wouldn't fit his boots, an' they'd have to." Mr.Dunkelberg turned to me and asked: "Are you sure that the stock of the gun you saw was broken ?" "Yes, sir-and I'm almost sure it was Amos that ran away with it." "Why ?" "I picked up a stone and threw it at him and it grazed the left side of his face, and the other night I saw the scar it made." My aunt and uncle and Mr.Dunkelberg moved with astonishment as I spoke of the scar.

Mr.Grimshaw, with keen eyes fixed upon me, gave a little grunt of incredulity.
"Huh!--Liar!" he muttered.
"I am not a liar," I declared with indignation, whereupon my aunt angrily stirred the fire in the stove and Uncle Peabody put his hand on my arm and said: "Hush, Bart! Keep your temper, son." "If you tell these things you may be the means of sending an innocent boy to his death," Mr.Dunkelberg said to me.

"I wouldn't be too sure about 'em if I were you.

It's so easy to be mistaken.

You couldn't be sure in the dusk that the stone really hit him, could you ?" I answered: "Yes, sir--I saw the stone hit and I saw him put his hand on the place while he was running.