t he was unconscious,
and the Correspondence School detective released him and stood up. He
uncovered the lens of his dark lantern and turned the ray on Wixy.

The murderer lay flat on his back, his eyes closed and his mouth open.
Mr. Gubb put his hand on Wixy's heart. It still beat! The man was not
dead!

[Illustration: WITH ANOTHER GROAN WIXY RAISED HIS HANDS]

With the dark lantern in one hand and a rusty tin can in the other,
Mr. Gubb hurried to the pond and returned with the can full of water,
but even in this crisis he did not act thoughtlessly. He set the dark
lantern on a shelf of the kiln, so that its rays might illuminate
Wixy and himself alike, drew one of his pistols and pointed it full at
Wixy's head, and holding it so, he dashed the can of water in the face
of the unconscious man. Wixy moved uneasily. He emitted a long sigh
and opened his eyes.

"I got you!" said Philo Gubb sternly. "There ain't no use to make a
move, because I'm a deteckative, and if you do I'll shoot this pistol
at you. If you're able so to do, just put up your hands."

Wixy blinked in the strong light of the lantern. He groaned and placed
one of his hands on his stomach.

"Put 'em up!" said Philo Gubb, and with another groan Wixy raised his
hands. He was still flat on his back. He looked as if he were doing
some sort of health exercise. In a minute the hands fell to the
ground.

"I guess you'd better set up," said Philo Gubb. "You ain't goin' to be
able to hold up your hands if you lay down that way."

As he helped Wixy to a sitting position, he kept his pistol against
the fellow's head.

"Now, then," said Philo Gubb, when he had arranged his captive to suit
his taste, "what you got to say?"

"I got to say I never done what you think I done, whatever it is,"
said Wixy. "I don't know what it is, but I never done it. Some other
feller done it."

"That don't bother me none," said Philo Gubb. "If you didn't do it, I
don't know who did. Just about the best thing you can do is to
account for the chicken and pay my expenses of getting you, and the
quicker you do it the better off you'll be."

Pale as Wixy was, he turned still paler when Philo Gubb mentioned the
chicken.

"I never killed the Chicken!" he almost shouted. "I never did it!"

"I don't care whether you killed the chicken or not," said Philo Gubb
calmly. "The chicken is gone, and I reckon that's the end of the
chicken. But Mrs. Smith has got to be paid."

"Did sh