en a terrible murder at Boggs City, that's all. The chief of
police just telephoned to us that a farmer named Grover was found dead
in a ditch just outside of town--shot through the head, his pockets
rifled. It is known that he started to town to deposit four hundred
dollars hog-money in the bank. The money is missing, and so are his
horse and buggy. A young fellow was seen in the neighbourhood early this
morning--a stranger. The chief's description corresponds with the man
who sold that rig to you. The murderer is known to have driven in this
direction. People saw him going almost at a gallop."

It is not necessary to say that Tinkletown thoroughly turned inside out
with excitement. The whole population was soon at the post-office, and
everybody was trying to supply Anderson Crow with wits. He had lost his
own.

"We've got to catch that fellow," finally resolved the marshal. There
was a dead silence.

"He's got a pistol," ventured some one.

"How do you know?" demanded Mr. Crow keenly. "Did y' see it?"

"He couldn't ha' killed that feller 'thout a gun."

"That's a fact," agreed Anderson Crow. "Well, we've got to get him,
anyhow. I call for volunteers! Who will join me in the search?" cried
the marshal bravely.

"I hate to go to Crow's Cliff after him," said George Ray. "It's a
lonesome place, and as dark as night 'mong them trees and rocks."

"It's our duty to catch him. He's a criminal, and besides, he's killed a
man," said Crow severely.

"And he has twenty-one dollars of your money," added Harry Squires.
"I'll go with you, Anderson. I've got a revolver."

"Look out there!" roared Anderson Crow. "The blamed thing might go off!"
he added as the reporter drew a shiny six-shooter from his pocket.

The example set by one brave man had its influence on the crowd. A
score or more volunteered, despite the objections of their wives, and it
was not long before Anderson Crow was leading his motley band of sleuths
down the lane to the foot-log over which the desperado had gone an hour
before.

It was at the beginning of the man-hunt that various citizens recalled
certain actions and certain characteristics of the stranger which had
made them suspicious from the start. His prodigal disposition of the box
of matches impressed most of them as reckless dare-devilism; his haste,
anxiety, and a single instance of mild profanity told others of his
viciousness. One man was sure he had seen the stranger's watch chain in
f