electman stared up at Mr. Gammon when he uttered the hateful
name of Reeves. Mr. Gammon twisted the noose on his neck so that the
knot would come under his ear, and endured the stare with equanimity.

With spectacles settled on a nose that wrinkled irefully, the Cap'n
perused the paper, his eyes growing bigger. Then he looked at the
blank back of the sheet, stared wildly at Mr. Gammon, and whirled
to face his friend Look.

"Hiram," he blurted, "you listen to this: 'Pers'nally appeared
before me this fifteenth day of September Charles Gammon, of Smyrna,
and deposes and declares that by divers arts, charms, spells, and
magic, incantations, and evil hocus-pocus, one--one--'"

"Arizima," prompted Mr. Gammon, mournfully. The Cap'n gazed on him
balefully, and resumed:

"'One Arizima Orff has bewitched and bedeviled him, his cattle, his
chattels, his belongings, including one calf, one churn, and various
ox-chains. It is therefore the opinion of the court that the first
selectman of Smyrna, as chief municipal officer, should investigate
this case under the law made and provided for the detection of witches,
and for that purpose I have put this writing in the hands of Mr. Gammon
that he may summon the proper authority, same being first selectman
aforesaid.'"

"That is just how he said it to me," confirmed "Cheerful Charles."
"He said that it was a thing for the selectman to take hold of without
a minute's delay. I wish you'd get your hat and start for my place
now and forthwith."

Cap'n Sproul paid no attention to the request. He was searching the
face of Hiram with eyes in which the light was growing lurid.

"I'm goin' over to his office and hosswhip him, and I want you to
come along and see me do it." He crumpled the paper into a ball, threw
it into a corner, and stumped to the window.

"It's just as I reckoned," he raged. "He was lookin' out to see how
the joke worked. I see him dodge back. He's behind the curtain in
his office." Again he whirled on Hiram. "After what the Reeves family
has tried to do to us," he declared, with a flourish of his arm
designed to call up in Mr. Look's soul all the sour memories of things
past, "he's takin' his life in his hands when he starts in to make
fun of me with a lunatic and a witch-story."

Mr. Gammon had recovered the dishonored document, and was smoothing
it on the table.

"That's twice you've called me a lunatic," he remonstrated. "You call
me that again, and you'll sett