"Certainly, sir," said he, "but I should tell you that they are not my
boots."
He took off his right boot and handed it to Panky.
"Exactly so! Eleven inches by four and a half, and one nail missing. And
now, Mr. Ranger, will you be good enough to explain how you became
possessed of that boot. You need not show me the other." And he spoke
like an examiner who was confident that he could floor his examinee in
_viva voce_.
"You know our orders," answered my father, "you have seen them on your
permit. I met one of those foreign devils from the other side, of whom
we have had more than one lately; he came from out of the clouds that
hang higher up, and as he had no permit and could not speak a word of our
language, I gripped him, flung him, and strangled him. Thus far I was
only obeying orders, but seeing how much better his boots were than mine,
and finding that they would fit me, I resolved to keep them. You may be
sure I should not have done so if I had known there was snow on the top
of the pass."
"He could not invent that," said Hanky; "it is plain he has not been up
to the statues."
Panky was staggered. "And of course," said he ironically, "you took
nothing from this poor wretch except his boots."
"Sir," said my father, "I will make a clean breast of everything.
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