ward for that dog, instead of
three. It's the only chance I've got of ever being able to live in my
own house again."

The Marshal eyed him reflectively. "If you could get her to agree to let
you offer the reward for Mike, dead or alive--"

"She wants him alive, and no other way."

"Can't you buy her off?"

Mr. Fryback groaned. "I could--" he began dismally, and then fell to
chewing with great vigour.

"What would it cost?" inquired Anderson, feelingly.

"An automobile," replied Mr. Fryback, after opening and closing the
stove-door once more. "It would be cheaper, you see, to offer a hundred
dollars for Mike," he explained, ingenuously.

"It certainly would," agreed the Marshal, "seein' as you wouldn't have
to pay fer anything except the printin' of the notices. If you wanted to
show how much you think of your wife, and how anxious you are to please
her, you could go as high as a thousand dollars, Mort."

"Would you, reely, Anderson?"

"Sure. She could lord it over all these women--includin' my wife--who've
been sayin' Mike wasn't worth fifty cents and didn't have a pedigree any
longer than his tail. Why, if she wanted to go on lyin' about the value
of that old dog, she could tell people she had been offered a thousand
dollars for Marmyduke by a well-known dog collector in New York."

"That _might_ please her," reflected Mort. "Course, this thing has
already cost me quite a lot of money, outside the printin'. I've had to
give Bill Kepsal a receipt in full fer what he owes me, and that young
Brubaker's been in twice to price base-burner stoves. He says if he c'n
get a good one fer ten dollars he'll take it, and his heart seems to be
set on that seventy-dollar Regal over yonder. I'm in an awful fix,
Anderson."

"Well, you can't say I didn't advise you to let Mike die a natural
death."

"I wish to goodness I had," lamented Mort.

The door opened at that juncture, and in walked a man and a woman. The
former was carrying a square black "valise," inadequately described by
Mrs. Bloomer as twice the natural size. As a matter of fact, it was more
like a half-grown trunk, to quote no less an authority than the town
marshal.

The proprietor of the hardware store was, at a glance, qualified to pass
an opinion on the personal appearance of the two strangers. His
companion's attention, however, was devoted so earnestly to the big
black "valise," that he couldn't have told, for the life of him, whether
the customers