Mr. Morgan across the Arkansas
River. You can follow them if you want to--you might overtake 'em
somewhere down in the Nation--you'll have to go in the same direction,
in peace if you will, otherwise if you won't."

"I'm marshal of this town," Seth still persisted, in the belief that
forces were gathering to his rescue, one could see. "The only way I'll
ever leave till I'm ready to go'll be in a box!"

Certainly, Seth did not end the defiance and the declaration that way,
nor issue it from his mouth in such pale and commonplace hues. Judge
Thayer argued with him, after his kindly disposition, perhaps not a
little sorry for the man who had outgrown his office and abused the
friend who had elevated him to it.

Seth remained as obdurate as a trapped wolf. He roved his eyes around,
craned his long, wrinkled neck, looking for the succor that was so long
in coming. He repeated, with blasting enlargement, that the only way
they could send him out of Ascalon would be in a box.

Judge Thayer drew apart to consult Morgan, in low tones. Morgan was
undisturbed by Craddock's unbending opinion that he had plenty of law
behind him to sustain his contention that he could not be removed from
office. It did not matter how much ammunition a man had if he couldn't
shoot it. It was Morgan's opinion, given with the light of humor
quickening in his eyes, that they ought to take Craddock at his word.

"Ship him out?" said Judge Thayer.

"In a box," Morgan nodded, face as sober as judgment, the humor growing
in his eyes.

"But we can't butcher the fellow like a hog!" Judge Thayer protested.

"Live hogs are shipped in boxes, right along," Morgan explained.

Judge Thayer saw the light; his pepper-and-salt whiskers twinkled and
spread around his mouth, and rose so high in their bristling over his
silent laughter that they threatened his eyes. He turned to Craddock,
forcing a sober front.

"All right, Seth, we'll take you up on it. You're going out of town in a
box," he said.

Judge Thayer ordered the undertaker to bring over a coffin box, the
longest one he had. The word ran like a prairie fire from those who
heard the order given, that they were going to shoot Craddock for his
crimes and bury him on the spot.

There was not a little disappointment, but more relief, in the public
mind when it became understood that Craddock was not to be shot. As a
mockery of his past oppression and terrible name, he was to be nailed up
in a box an