as
they could get to their wagons, Mr. Wade riding with the chief
constable.

The town house of Smyrna is on the main road leading to the
railway-station. The constables, topping a hill an eighth of a mile
behind the fugitive, expected to see him turn in at the town house.
But he tore past, his horse still on the run, the wagon swaying wildly
as he turned the corner beyond the Merrithew sugar orchard.

"Well, I swow," grunted Mr. Nute, and licked on.

The usual crowd of horse-swappers was gathered in the town-house yard,
and beheld this tumultuous passage with professional interest. And,
recognizing the first selectman-elect of Smyrna, their interest had
an added flavor.

Next came the two teams containing the constables, lashing past on
the run. They paid no attention to the amazed yells of inquiry from
the horse-swappers, and disappeared behind the sugar orchard.

"You've got me!" said Uncle Silas Drake to the first out-rush of the
curious from the town house. In his amazement, Uncle Silas was still
holding to the patient nose of the horse whose teeth he had been
examining. "They went past like soft-soap slidin' down the suller
stairs, and that's as fur's I'm knowin'. But I want to remark, as
my personal opinion, that a first seeleckman of this town ought to
be 'tendin' to his duties made and pervided, instead of razooin'
hosses up and down in front of this house when town meetin' is goin'
on."

One by one, voters, mumbling their amazement, unhitched their horses
and started along the highway in the direction the fugitives had
taken. It seemed to all that this case required to be investigated.
The procession whipped along briskly and noisily.

Colonel Gideon Ward, returning from the railroad-station, where he
had been to order flat-cars for lumber, heard the distant clamor of
voices, and stood up in his tall cart to listen. At that instant,
around the bend of the road, twenty feet away, came a horse galloping
wildly. Colonel Ward was halted squarely in the middle of the way.
He caught an amazed glimpse of Cap'n Sproul trying to rein to one
side with unskilled hands, and then the wagons met. Colonel Ward's
wagon stood like a rock. The lighter vehicle, locking wheels, went
down with a crash, and Cap'n Sproul shot head-on over the dasher into
his brother-in-law's lap, as he crouched on his seat.

The advantage was with Cap'n Sproul, for the Colonel was underneath.
Furthermore, Cap'n Sproul was thrice armed wit