the group and
entered the store. And so it was that the train robbers were forgotten
for the time being.

But Marshal Crow's reputation as a horse-thief taker and general
suppressor of crime constantly upbraided him. It seemed to call upon him
to take steps toward the capture of the train robbers. All that
afternoon he reflected. Tinkletown, seeing his mood, refrained from
breaking in upon it. He was allowed to stroke his whiskers in peace and
to think to his heart's content. By nightfall his face had become an
inscrutable mask, and then it was known that the President of Bramble
County's Horse-Thief Detective Association was determined to fathom the
great problem. Stealthily he went up to the great attic in his home and
inspected his "disguises." In some far-off period of his official career
he had purchased the most amazing collection of false beards, wigs and
garments that any stranded comedian ever disposed of at a sacrifice. He
tried each separate article, seeking for the best individual effect;
then he tried them collectively. It would certainly have been
impossible to recognise him as Anderson Crow. In truth, no one could
safely have identified him as a human being.

"I'm goin' after them raskils," he announced to Andrew Gregory and the
whole family, as he came down late to take his place at the head of the
supper table.

"Ain't you goin' to let 'em show here, pop?" asked Roscoe in distress.

"Show here? What air you talkin' about?"

"He means the train robbers, Roscoe," explained the lad's mother. The
boy breathed again.

"They are a dangerous lot," volunteered Gregory, who had been in Albany
for two days. "The papers are full of their deeds. Cutthroats of the
worst character."

"I'd let them alone, Anderson," pleaded his wife. "If you corner them,
they'll shoot, and it would be jest like you to follow them right into
their lair."

"Consarn it, Eva, don't you s'pose that I c'n shoot, too?" snorted
Anderson. "What you reckon I've been keepin' them loaded revolvers out
in the barn all these years fer? Jest fer ornaments? Not much! They're
to shoot with, ef anybody asks you. Thunderation, Mr. Gregory, you ain't
no idee how a feller can be handicapped by a timid wife an' a lot o'
fool childern. I'm almost afeard to turn 'round fer fear they'll be
skeered to death fer my safety."

"You cut yourself with a razor once when ma told you not to try to shave
the back of your neck by yourself," said one of the g