er what he thought of him. Not only
was there a lady present, but he felt himself at a disadvantage. The
lady saved him from an instant necessity for words.

"That was our new clothesline; I recognized it at once." The woman
seemed to pride herself on this paltry feat.

"What's this mean?" again demanded Gashwiler. He was now a man of one
idea.

Again was Merton Gill saved from the need of instant speech, though not
in a way he would have chosen to be saved. The three Ransom children ran
up, breathless, shouting.

"Oh, Merton, here's your pistol. I found it right in the road there."
"We found your pistol right in the dirt there. I saw it first." "You
did not; I saw it first. Merton, will you let me shoot it off, Merton? I
found your pistol, didn't I, Merton? Didn't I find it right in the road
there?" The friendly tots did little step dances while they were thus
vocal.

"Be quiet, children," commanded Merton, finding a voice. But they were
not to be quelled by mere tones.

"He throwed Merton right off into the dirt, didn't he, Merton? Merton,
didn't he throw you right off into the dirt, Merton? Did he hurt you,
Merton?" "Merton, will you let me shoot it off just once--just once,
and I'll never ask again?" "He didn't either find it first, Merton." "He
throwed you off right into the dirt--didn't he throw you right off into
the dirt, Merton?"

With a harsher show of authority, or perhaps merely because he was
bearded--so unreasoning are the inhibitions of the young--Gashwiler
stilled the tumult. The dancing died. "What's this mean?" he repeated.

"We nearly had an accident," said the lady.

"What's this mean?"

An answer of sorts could no longer be delayed.

"Well, I thought I'd give Dexter a little exercise, so I saddled him up
and was going to ride him around the block, when--when these kids here
yelled and scared him so he ran away."

"Oh, what a story!" shouted the tots in unison. "What a bad story!
You'll go to the bad place," intoned little Elsie.

"I swear, I don't know what's gettin' into you," declared Gashwiler.
"Don't that horse get exercise enough during the week? Don't he like his
day of rest? How'd you like me to saddle you up and ride you round the
block? I guess you'd like that pretty well, wouldn't you?" Gashwiler
fancied himself in this bit of sarcasm, brutal though it was. He
toyed with it. "Next Sunday I'll saddle you up and ride you round the
block--see how you like that, young man."