him on."

In view of that still looming incubus of the unfinished town report,
Cap'n Sproul accepted Hiram's offer with alacrity.

"It ain't that I care so much about the critter himself," he confided,
"but Bat Reeves has got his oar in the case, and by to-morrow the
whole town will be watchin' to see which gets the upper hands."

"I'll camp there," promised Hiram, "and I don't reckon they can do
old dead-and-alive to any great extent whilst I've got my eye on 'em."

Cap'n Sproul barricaded his door again the next day and disregarded
ordinary summons at the portal. But along in the afternoon came one
who, after knocking vainly, began to batter with fists and feet, and
when the first selectman finally tore open the door with full
determination to kick this persistent disturber off the steps, he
found Hiram Look there. And Hiram Look came in and thumped himself
into a chair with no very clearly defined look of triumph on his face.

"He ain't dead again, is he?" demanded Cap'n Sproul, apprehensively.

"No, he ain't, and that's where he loses," replied the old showman.
He chafed his blue nose and thumped his feet on the floor to warm
them. It was plain that he had been long exposed to the December wind.

"Law," announced Hiram, "has got more wrinkles in it than there are
in a fake mermaid's tail. Do you know what kind of a game they've
gone to work and rigged up on your friend, the human curling-tongs?
The widder has got him to doin' chores again. It seems that she was
always strong on keepin' him doin' chores. He's peckin' away at that
pile of wood that's fitted and lays at the corner of the barn. He's
luggin' it into the woodshed, and three sticks at a time make his
legs bend like corset whalebones. Looks like he's got a good stiddy
job for all winter--and every once in a while she comes out and yaps
at him to prod him up."

"Well, that gets him taken care of, all right," said the Cap'n, with
a sigh of relief.

"Yes, he's taken care of," remarked Hiram, dryly. "But you don't
understand the thing yet, Cap'n. On top of that woodpile sets Bat
Reeves, lappin' the end of a lead-pencil and markin' down every time
old water-skipper there makes a trip."

"Well, if it amuses him, it takes care of him, too," said the Cap'n.

"Looks innercent, childlike, and sociable, hey?" inquired the
showman, sarcastically. "Well, you just listen to what I've dug up
about that. Bat Reeves has bought the strip of ground between the
wo