claimed that he was a
farmer--indeed, in those days there was nothing to farm away up among
those desolate hills--and therefore Stokoe made no attempt to pose as
anything in the bucolic line; it was a pretty open secret that his real
occupation was neither more nor less than smuggling. But he had never
yet been caught while engaged in running a contraband cargo, and,
whatever reason there may have been for suspicion, no revenue officer
had ever had courage to make a raid on his house. There came, however,
to that district a new officer, one plagued with an abnormally strong
sense of duty, a "new broom," in fact, an altogether too energetic
enthusiast who could by no means let well alone, but must ever be poking
into other people's affairs in a way that began at length to create
extreme annoyance in the minds of those honest gentlemen, the smugglers.

Now it chanced that this officious person had lately received sure
information of the safe landing of an unusually valuable cargo, large
part of which was reported to be stowed somewhere on Stokoe's premises,
and he resolved to pay Jack a surprise visit. Accordingly, the
Preventive man went to the nearest magistrate, demanding a warrant to
search. The magistrate hummed and hawed. "Did the officer think it
necessary to disturb Stokoe, who was really a very honest, douce lad?
Well, well, if he must, he must, and there was an end of it! He should
have the warrant. But Jack Stokoe was a man, he'd heard say, who had no
liking to have his private affairs too closely inquired into, and if
ill came of it--well, the officer must not forget that he had been
cautioned. A nod was as good as a wink."

Notwithstanding these well-meant hints, the gauger made his way across
the hills to Stokoe's house. He was alone, but then he was a powerful
man, well armed and brave enough, and never in all his experience had a
bold front, backed by the majesty of the law, failed to effect its end.
If he found anything contraband there was no doubt in his mind as to the
result. Stokoe should accompany him back as a prisoner.

There was no one at Stokoe's when the officer arrived, except Jack
himself and a little girl, and when the gauger showed his warrant and
began his search, Stokoe made no remark whatever, merely sat where he
was, smoking. The gauger's search was very thorough; everything was
topsy-turvy before many minutes had passed, but nothing could he find.
There remained the loft, to which ac