and give social
dances," retorted the Cap'n. "I didn't know but it was willin' to
be useful for once in its life."

"Slur noted!" said Hiram, with acerbity. "But you can't expect us
to pull you out of a hole that you've mismanaged yourself into. You
needn't flare, now, Cap'n. It's been mismanaged, and that's the
sentiment of the town. I ain't twittin' you because I've lost
property. I'm talkin' as a friend."

"That's twice this mornin' you've passed me that 'friend' handbill,"
raged the selectman. "Advertisin' yourself, be ye? And then leavin'
me in the lurch! This is a friendly town, that's what it is.
Constables, voters, firemen, and you yourself dump the whole burden
of this onto me, and then stand back and growl at me! Well, if this
thing is up to me alone and friendless and single-handed, I know what
I'm goin' to do!" His tone had the grate of file against steel.

"What?" inquired his friend with interest.

"Get a gun and go out and drop that humpbacked old Injy-cracker!"

But Hiram protested fervently.

"Where would you shoot him?" he cried. "You don't know where to find
him in them woods. You'd have to nail him here in the village, and
besides its bein' murder right in the face and eyes of folks, you'd
put a bullet into that sack o' dynamite and blow ev'ry store,
meetin'-house, and school-house in Smyrna off'm the map. You give
that up, or I'll pass the word and have you arrested, yourself, as
a dangerous critter."

He went away, still protesting as long as he was in hearing.

Cap'n Sproul sat despondent in his chair, and gazed through the
broken window at other broken windows. Ex-Constable Nute presented
himself at the pane outside and said, nervously chewing tobacco: "I
reckon it's the only thing that can be done now, Cap'n. It seems to
be the general sentiment."

With a flicker of hope irradiating his features, Cap'n Sproul
inquired for details.

"It's to write to the President and get him to send down a hunk of
the United States Army. You've got to fight fire with fire."

Without particular display of passion, with the numb stolidity of
one whose inner fires have burned out, the selectman got up and threw
a cuspidor through the window at his counsellor, and then seated
himself to his pondering once more.

That afternoon Mrs. Aholiah Luce came walking into the village, spent,
forlorn, and draggled. She went straight to the town office, and
seated herself in front of the musing first selectman.