had emerged with
a shot-gun in his fist and a knife in his teeth he might have presented
some semblance of an outlaw. But this bow-legged man with a sack
certainly did not seem savage. Hiram offered the humorous suggestion
that perhaps Mr. Luce proposed to restore property, and thereby
causing people to fall dead with astonishment would get his revenge
on society.

"I warned ye and you wouldn't listen," screamed the self-declared
pariah. "I said there was such a thing as squdgin' me too fur. Ye
didn't believe it. Now mebbe ye'll believe that!"

He had halted at a little distance from them, and had set down his
sack. He dove into it and held up a cylinder, something more than
half a foot long, a brown, unassuming cylinder that certainly didn't
have anything about its looks to call out all the excitement that
was convulsing Mr. Luce.

"Pee-ruse that!" squealed he. "_There's_ a lead-pencil that will
write some news for ye." He shook the cylinder at them. "And there's
plenty more of 'em in this bag." He curled his long lip back.
"Daminite!" he spat. "I'll show ye whuther I'm an outlaw or not."

"And I know where you stole it," bawled one of the bystanders
indignantly. "You stole all me and my brother bought and had stored
for a season's blastin'. Constable Nute, I call on you to arrest him
and give me back my property."

"Arrest me, hey?" repeated Mr. Luce. In one hand he shook aloft the
stick of dynamite, with its dangling fuse that grimly suggested the
detonating cap at its root. In the other hand he clutched a bunch
of matches. "You start in to arrest me and you'll arrest two miles
straight up above here, travellin' a hundred miles a minit."

"There ain't any grit in him, Nute," mumbled Cap'n Sproul. "Jest give
a whoop and dash on him."

"That sounds glib and easy," demurred the prudent officer, "but if
that man hasn't gone clean loony then I'm no jedge. I don't reckon
I'm goin' to charge any batteries."

"You'll do what I tell you to! You're an officer, and under orders."

"You told me once to take up Hiram Look's el'funt and put her in the
pound," remonstrated the constable. "But I didn't do it, and I wasn't
holden to do it. And I ain't holden to run up and git blowed to
everlastin' hackmetack with a bag of dynamite."

"Look here, Nute," cried the Cap'n, thoroughly indignant and
shifting the contention to his officer--entirely willing to ignore
Mr. Luce's threats and provocations--"I haven't called on you