come to Tinkletown through the agency of a
post-revolution generation. The beauty of it all was that Anderson never
lost a shred of his serenity in explaining how the association had
implored him to join its forces, even going so far as to urge him to
come to New York City, where he could assist and advise in all of its
large operations. And, moreover, he had been obliged to pay but ten
dollars membership fee, besides buying the blazing star for the paltry
sum of three dollars and a quarter.

Every passer-by on this bright spring morning offered a respectful
"Howdy" to Anderson Crow, whose only recognition was a slow and
imposing nod of the head. Once only was he driven to relinquish his
pensive attitude, and that was when an impertinent blue-bottle fly
undertook to rest for a brief spell upon the nickel-plated star. Never
was blue-bottle more energetically put to flight.

But even as the Tinkletown Pooh-Bah posed in restful supremacy there
were rushing down upon him affairs of the epoch-making kind. Up in the
clear, lazy sky a thunderbolt was preparing to hurl itself into the very
heart of Tinkletown, and at the very head of Anderson Crow.

Afterward it was recalled by observing citizens that just before
noon--seven minutes to twelve, in fact--a small cloud no bigger than the
proverbial hand crossed the sun hurriedly as if afraid to tarry. At that
very instant a stranger drove up to the hitching-rack, bringing his
sweat-covered horse to a standstill so abruptly in front of the
marshal's nose that that dignitary's hat fell off backward.

"Whoa!" came clearly and unmistakably from the lips of the stranger who
held the reins. Half a dozen loafers on the post-office steps were
positive that he said nothing more, a fact that was afterward worth
remembering.

"Here!" exclaimed Anderson Crow wrathfully. "Do you know what you're
doin', consarn you?"

"I beg pardon," everybody within hearing heard the young man say. "Is
this the city of Tinkletown?" He said "city," they could swear, every
man's son of them.

"Yes, it is," answered the marshal severely. "What of it?"

"That's all. I just wanted to know. Where's the store?"

"Which store?" quite crossly. The stranger seemed nonplussed at this.

"Have you more than--oh, to be sure. I should say, where is the
_nearest_ store?" apologised the stranger.

"Well, this is a good one, I reckon," said Mr. Crow laconically,
indicating the post-office and general store.

"Wil