s teeth, stamped his foot and advanced
swinging his cane alarmingly.

"I've come to see you--" he began, and choked on the words.

"May I ask what for?" interrogated Bart.

Colonel Harrington shook, as he placed his cane under his arm and took
out his big plethoric wallet.

He selected a strip of paper and held it between his forefinger and
thumb.

"Young man," he observed, "do you know what that is?"

Bart shook his head.

"Well, I'll tell you, it's a bill, do you hear? a bill. It's for
eighty-five dollars, damage done maliciously on my private grounds,
yesterday evening. It represents the bare cost of a new copper pedestal
to replace the one you shot to pieces last night, and it's a wonder you
are not in jail for murder, for had that cannon ball struck a human
being--Enough! before I take up this outrage with the district attorney
in its criminal phase, are you going to settle the damage, or are you
not?"

"Colonel Harrington, I haven't got eighty-five dollars."

"Then get it!" snapped the Colonel.

"Nor can I get it."

"Then," observed the colonel, restoring the bit of paper to his
pocket--"go to jail!"

Bart regarded his enemy dumbly. Colonel Harrington was a power in
Pleasantville, his will and his way were paramount there.

"I am sorry," said Bart finally, in a tone of genuine distress, "but
eighty-five dollars is a sheer impossibility--in cash. If you would
listen to me--"

"But I shan't!"

"I would like to offer payment or replace the pedestal on reasonable
terms."

"It don't go!"

"And, further, I am not to blame in the matter."

"What!" roared the colonel "what's that?"

"It's the truth," asserted Bart. "I never knew the cannon was loaded
with a ball."

"Do you know who loaded it?"

Bart was silent.

"You won't tell? We'll see if a jury can't make you, then!" fumed the
colonel. "Aha! it's serious now, is it? Not so much fun breaking up my
home and breaking up my speech at the grove to-day, hey?"

Bart saw very plainly that what rankled most with his volcanic visitor
was the blow to his pride he had suffered that afternoon at the grove.

"You put me in a nice fix, didn't you?" cried the colonel--"laughing
stock of the community! Young man, you're on the downward road, fast.
You're all of a brood. Your mother--"

Bart started forward with a dangerous sparkle in his eye.

"Colonel Harrington," he said decisively, "my mother has nothing to do
with this affair."

"She has!" vo