ly painted. Scully placed the light on the table
and sat himself on the edge of the bed. He spoke ruminatively. "By
cracky, I never heard of such a thing in my life. It's a complete
muddle. I can't, for the soul of me, think how you ever got this idea
into your head." Presently he lifted his eyes and asked: "And did you
sure think they were going to kill you?"

The Swede scanned the old man as if he wished to see into his mind. "I
did," he said at last. He obviously suspected that this answer might
precipitate an outbreak. As he pulled on a strap his whole arm shook,
the elbow wavering like a bit of paper.

Scully banged his hand impressively on the foot-board of the bed.
"Why, man, we're goin' to have a line of ilictric street-cars in this
town next spring."

"'A line of electric street-cars,'" repeated the Swede, stupidly.

"And," said Scully, "there's a new railroad goin' to be built down
from Broken Arm to here. Not to mintion the four churches and the
smashin' big brick school-house. Then there's the big factory, too.
Why, in two years Romper 'll be a _metropolis_."

Having finished the preparation of his baggage, the Swede straightened
himself. "Mr. Scully," he said, with sudden hardihood, "how much do I
owe you?"

"You don't owe me anythin'," said the old man, angrily.

"Yes, I do," retorted the Swede. He took seventy-five cents from his
pocket and tendered it to Scully; but the latter snapped his fingers
in disdainful refusal. However, it happened that they both stood
gazing in a strange fashion at three silver pieces on the Swede's open
palm.

"I'll not take your money," said Scully at last. "Not after what's
been goin' on here." Then a plan seemed to strike him. "Here," he
cried, picking up his lamp and moving towards the door. "Here! Come
with me a minute."

"No," said the Swede, in overwhelming alarm.

"Yes," urged the old man. "Come on! I want you to come and see a
picter--just across the hall--in my room."

The Swede must have concluded that his hour was come. His jaw dropped
and his teeth showed like a dead man's. He ultimately followed Scully
across the corridor, but he had the step of one hung in chains.

Scully flashed the light high on the wall of his own chamber. There
was revealed a ridiculous photograph of a little girl. She was leaning
against a balustrade of gorgeous decoration, and the formidable bang
to her hair was prominent. The figure was as graceful as an upright
sled-stake,