t what dire fate had befallen him? Surely, not even an amateur
cracksman would give himself and the whole snap away unless the
provocation was great.

Lights began to appear all over the house. Aunt Martha in a weird
makeup came out of her room screaming, "What is it? What is it?"
followed by Uncle Peter and his trusty bow and arrow.

I began to pray. It was all over. A rosewood casket for Bunch.
Me for the Morgue.

Just as I was ready to rush down to investigate, Tacks came
bounding up the stairs, two steps at a time, clad only in his
nightie.

_Up the stairs_, mind you! The nerve of that kid!

"Gi'me the prize, sister!" he yelled; "I caught the ghost! I
caught him!"

"What do you mean?" I said, shaking him.

Tacks grinned from ear to ear. "You know they's a trap door in the
hall so's to get down in the cellar and it ain't finished yet, so
this evening I took the door up and laid heavy paper on it so's if
the ghost walked on it he'd go through and he did, and I get the
prize, don't I, sister?"

I rushed down to the scene of the explosion, followed by my excited
household.

Leaning over the yawning cellar trap door I yelled, "Who's down
there?"

"Oh! you go to hell!" came back the voice of the disgusted Bunch,
whereupon Aunt Martha almost fainted, while Uncle Peter loaded his
bow and arrow and prepared to sell his life dearly.

Great Scott! what a situation! The man who owned the house nursing
his bruises in the muddy cellar while the bunch of interlopers
above him clamored for his life.

While I puzzled my dizzy think-factory for a way out of the dilemma
there came a terrific knock at the door and Tacks promptly opened
it.

"Have you got him? Have you got him?" inquired the elongated and
cadaverous specimen of humanity who burst into the hall and stared
at us.

"I seen him early this evening a'hangin' around these here premises
and I ups and chases him twicet, but the skunk outrun me," the
newcomer gurgled, as he excitedly swung a policeman's billy the
size of a fence rail.

"Then I seen the lights here and says I, 'they has him'! Perduce
the maleyfactor till I trot him to the lock-up!" and with this the
minion of the law rolled up his sleeves and prepared for action.

"I presume you are the chief of police?" inquired Uncle Peter, with
an affable smile.

"I'm all the police they is and my name is Harmony Diggs, and
they's no buggular livin' can get out'n my clutches oncet I gits
th