the cell has done all right. I'll be back
'bout supper-time, Eva. You take keer o' Rosalie. Make her sleep a while
an' I guess you'd better dose her up a bit with quinine an'--"

"I guess I know what to give her, Anderson Crow," resented his wife. "Go
'long with you. You'd oughter been lookin' after them kidnapers three
hours ago. I bet Bud's purty nigh wore out guardin' them. He's been
there ever sence nine o'clock, an' it's half-past two now."

"Roscoe's helpin' him," muttered Anderson, abashed.

At that instant there came a rush of footsteps across the front porch
and in burst Ed Higgins and "Blootch" Peabody, fairly gasping with
excitement.

"Hurry up, Anderson--down to the jail," sputtered the former; and then
he was gone like the wind. "Blootch," determined to miss nothing,
whirled to follow, or pass him if possible. He had time to shout over
his shoulder as he went forth without closing the door:

"The old woman has lynched herself!"

It would now be superfluous to remark, after all the convulsions
Tinkletown had experienced inside of twenty-four hours, that the
populace went completely to pieces in face of this last trying
experiment of Fate. With one accord the village toppled over as if
struck by a broadside and lay, figuratively speaking, writhing in its
own gore. Stupefaction assailed the town. Then one by one the minds of
the people scrambled up from the ashes, slowly but surely, only to
wonder where lightning would strike next. Not since the days of the
American Revolution had the town experienced such an incessant rush of
incident. The Judgment Day itself, with Gabriel's clarion blasts, could
not be expected to surpass this productive hour in thrills.

It was true that old Maude had committed suicide in the calaboose. She
had been placed on a cot in the office of the prison and Dr. Smith had
been sent for, immediately after her arrival; but he was making a call
in the country. Bud Long, supported by half a dozen boys armed with
Revolutionary muskets, which would not go off unless carried, stood in
front of the little jail with its wooden walls and iron bars, guarding
the prisoners zealously. The calaboose was built to hold tramps and
drunken men, but not for the purpose of housing desperadoes. Even as the
heroic Bud watched with persevering faithfulness, his charges were
planning to knock their prison to smithereens and at the proper moment
escape to the woods and hills. They knew the grated door