permit me to suggest," says Leonidas, "there ought to be all
the evidence needed right in the cemetery."

"Of course there is!" says Ase Horner. "Why didn't we think of that
first off? I'll get a lantern and we'll go up and read the date on the
headstun."

There was six of us lined up for the cemetery, the three natives jawin'
away as to who was right and who wasn't. Every little ways some one
would hear the racket, throw up a window, and chip in. Most of 'em asked
us to wait until they could dress and join the procession. Before we'd
gone half a mile it looked like a torchlight parade. The bigger the
crowd got, the faster the recruits fell in. Folks didn't stop to ask any
questions. They just jumped into their clothes, grabbed lanterns and
piked after us. There was men and women and children, not to mention a
good many dogs. Every one was jabberin' away, some askin' what it was
all about and the rest tryin' to explain. There must have been a good
many wild guesses, for I heard one old feller in the rear rank
squallin' out: "Remember, neighbors, nothin' rash, now; nothin' rash!"

I couldn't figure out just what they meant by that at the time; but
then, the whole business didn't seem any too sensible, so I didn't
bother. On the way up I'd sort of fell in with the constable. He
couldn't get any one else to listen to him, and as he had a lot of
unused conversation on hand I let him spiel it off at me. Leonidas and
Homer were ahead with Ase Homer and the old duffer that started the row,
and the debate was still goin' on.

When we got to the cemetery Homer dropped out and leaned up against the
gate, sayin' he'd wait there for us. We piled after Ase, who'd made a
dash to get to the headstone first.

"It's right over in this section," says he, wavin' his lantern, "and I
want all of you to come and see that I know what I'm talking about when
I give out dates. I want to show you, by ginger, that I've got a mem'ry
that's better'n any diary ever wrote. Here we are now! Here's the grave
and--well, durn my eyes! Blessed if there's any sign of a headstun
here!"

And there wa'n't, either.

"By jinks!" says the old constable, slappin' his leg. "That's one on me,
boys. Why, Lizzie Dorsett told me only last week that her mother had
the stun took up and sent away to have the name of her second husband
cut on't. Only last week she told me, and here I'd clean forgot it."

"You're an old billy goat!" says Ase Horner.

"There, the