son Crow
and a dozen armed men from Tinkletown, every one of them shaking in his
boots. The irrepressible Mrs. Crosby said "Boo!" suddenly, and half the
posse jumped as though some one had thrown a bomb at them.

"Now, I demand an explanation of this outrage," said Jack Barnes
savagely. "What do you mean by shooting at me and my--my wife and
arresting us, and all that?"

"You'll find out soon enough when you're strung up fer it," snarled
Anderson Crow. "An' you'll please hand over that money I paid fer the
hoss and buggy. I'll learn you how to sell stolen property to me."

"Oh, I'm a horse-thief, am I? This is rich. And they'll string me up,
eh? Next thing you'll be accusing me of killing that farmer up near
Boggs City."

"Well, by gosh! you're a cool one!" ejaculated Anderson Crow. "I s'pose
you're goin' ter try the insanity dodge."

"It's lucky for me that they caught him," said Barnes as the herd of
prisoners moved off toward the string of boats tied to Mr. Bracken's
wharf.

"Come off!" exclaimed Squires, the reporter, scornfully. "We're onto
you, all right, all right."

"What! Do you think I'm the man who--well, holy mackerel! Say, you
gravestones, don't you ever hear any news out here? Wake up! They caught
the murderer at Billsport, not more than five miles from your jay burg.
I was driving through the town when they brought him in. That's what
made me late, dear," turning to Marjory.

"Yes, and I'll bet my soul that here comes some one with the news,"
cried George Crosby, who had heard nothing of the tragedy until this
instant.

A rowboat containing three men was making for the landing. Somehow,
Anderson Crow and his posse felt the ground sinking beneath them. Not a
man uttered a sound until one of the newcomers called out from the boat:

"Is Anderson Crow there?"

"Yes, sir; what is it?" demanded Crow in a wobbly voice.

"Your wife wants to know when in thunder you're comin' home." By this
time the skiff was bumping against the landing.

"You tell her to go to Halifax!" retorted Anderson Crow. "Is that all
you want?"

"They nabbed that murderer up to Billsport long 'bout 'leven o'clock,"
said Alf Reesling, the town drunkard. "We thought we'd row down and tell
you so's you wouldn't be huntin' all night for the feller who--hello,
you got him, eh?"

"Are you fellers lyin'?" cried poor Anderson Crow.

"Not on your life. We knowed about the captcher over in town just about
half an hour after you