brown jeans and high boots, on which the
spurs jingled; for in his excitement he had put them on as mechanically
as his clothes, as if they were an essential part of his attire.

"Naw, I _ain't_ meanin' ter say whar's the courthouse," said the ranger,
coming up close, with the red glow of the fire on his face, and his
eyes flashing under the broad brim of his wool hat. He had a threatening
aspect, and his elongated shadow, following him and repeating the
menace of his attitude, seemed to back him up. "Ye air sech a triflin',
slack-twisted tribe hyar in town, ez ennybody would know ef a spark
cotched fire ter suthin, ye'd set an' suck yer paws, an' eye it till
it bodaciously burnt up the court-house--sech a dad-burned lazy set o'
half-livers ye be! I never axed 'bout'n the court-house. I want ter know
whar's that thar stray-book," he concluded, inconsequently.

"Tobe Gryce, ye air fairly demented," exclaimed the register--a
chin-whiskered, grizzled old fellow, sitting on a stump and hugging his
knee with a desolate, bereaved look--"talkin' 'bout the _stray-book_,
an' all the records gone! What will folks do 'bout thar deeds, an'
mortgages, an' sech? An' that thar keerful index ez I had made--ez
straight ez a string--all cinders!"

He shook his head, mourning alike for the party of the first part and
the party of the second part, and the vestiges of all that they had
agreed together.

"An' ye ter kem mopin' hyar this time o' night arter the _stray-book!_"
said the sheriff. "Shucks!" And he turned aside and spat disdainfully on
the ground.

"I want that thar stray-book!" cried Gryce, indignantly. "Ain't nobody
seen it?" Then realizing the futility of the question, he yielded to a
fresh burst of anger, and turned upon the bereaved register. "An' did
ye jes set thar an' say, 'Good Mister Fire, don't burn the records; what
'll folks do 'bout thar deeds an' sech?' an' hold them claws o' yourn,
an' see the court-house burn up, with that thar stray-book in it?"

Half a dozen men spoke up. "The fire tuk inside, an' the court-house war
haffen gone 'fore 'twar seen," said one, in sulky extenuation.

"Leave Tobe be--let him jaw!" said another, cavalierly.

"Tobe 'pears ter be sp'ilin' fur a fight," said a third, impersonally,
as if to direct the attention of any belligerent in the group to the
opportunity.

The register had an expression of slow cunning as he cast a glance up at
the overbearing ranger.

"What ailed the