ous. The
Cap'n's keen ear caught the coward's note of querulousness, for he
had heard that note many times before in his stormy association with
men. He chuckled and walked on more briskly.

"I'll do it--I swear I will!" said Mr. Luce, but his voice was only
a weak piping.

In spite of itself Smyrna stopped, groaned, and squatted where it
stood when Mr. Luce swung the sack and launched it at the intrepid
selectman. As he threw it, the outlaw turned to run. The Cap'n grabbed
the sack, catapulted it back, and caught the fleeing Mr. Luce
squarely between the shoulders; and he went down on his face with
a yell of pain. The next moment Smyrna saw her first selectman kicking
a bleating man around and around the square until the man got down,
lifted up his hands, and bawled for mercy.

And when Smyrna flocked around, the Cap'n faced them, his fist
twisted in Mr. Luce's collar.

"This critter belongs in State Prison, but I ain't goin' to send him
there. He's goin' onto our poor-farm, and he's goin' to work for the
first time in his life, and he'll keep to work till he works up some
of the bill he owes this town. He's a pauper because his wife has
called on. But I ain't dependin' on law. I'm runnin' this thing myself.
I've shown ye that I can run it. And if any of you quitters and cowards
have got anything to say why my sentence won't be carried out, now
is the time to say it."

He glowered into their faces, but no one said anything except Zeburee
Nute, who quavered: "We allus knowed you was the smartest man that
ever came to this town, and--"

"Close that mouth!" yelped Cap'n Sproul. "It's worse than an open
hatch on a superphosphate schooner."

"You dare to leave that town farm, you or your wife either," the
selectman went on, giving Mr. Luce a vigorous shake, "and I'll have
you in State Prison as quick as a grand jury can indict. Nute, you
hitch and take him down there, and tell the boss he's to work ten
hours a day, with one hour's noonin', and if he don't move fast enough,
to get at him with a gad."

Mr. Luce, cowed, trembling, appealing dumbly for sympathy, was
driven away while the first selectman was picking up the sack that
still lay in the village square. Without a moment's hesitation he
slit it with his big knife, and emptied its contents into a hole that
the spring frosts had left. Those contents were simply rocks.

"In the name of Joanthus Cicero!" gasped Broadway, licking his dry
lips. "How did you fig