what precariously at the top of it, let out a
lugubrious howl.

"She's a goner!" he announced.

The two young women had their heads close together and were conversing.
Marshal Crow, armed with the double barreled shotgun, began a cautious
circuitous advance, his finger on the trigger.

He stopped short when about twenty feet from the women, and
spasmodically pulled the trigger. There is no telling what might have
happened if the gun had been loaded.

Mr. Fox had deliberately overturned the box and--out scampered three
sprightly Boston terrier puppies!

Ten minutes later all but one of Mort Fryback's farming utensils were
back in stock. The missing implement, a hatchet, was furtively on its
way to the barber-shop of one Ebenezer January, coloured.

Mr. and Mrs. Fryback, Marshal Crow and the amiable Foxes discussed the
"points" of the frolicsome puppies in the rear of the hardware store.

"I just adore this one, Mrs. Fox," said Mrs. Fryback, pointing to a
rugged little rascal who was patiently gnawing at Mr. Fryback's peg-leg.
"Do you really recommend him as the best of the lot, Mr. Fox?" she
inquired, turning her shining eyes upon the gentleman.

"Absolutely," said Mr. Fox. "Wouldn't you say so, Mr. Crow?"

"Ab-so-lutely," said Anderson.

"Then I'll take him," said Mort's wife, and Mort not only sighed but
wiped a fine coat of moisture from his brow. "One hundred dollars is the
very least you will take?"

"The very least, Mrs. Fryback. He is a thoroughbred, you know. My
kennels are famous, as you doubtless noted in my advertisement in _Town
and Country_--and I can personally guarantee every pup that comes out of
them. In your letter to me, Mrs. Fryback, you stated that only the best
I had on hand would be considered. The mother of these puppies has a
pedigree a yard long, and the father, as I mentioned before, is Stubbs
the Twelfth. Nothing more need be said. The mother, Bonnie Bridget, you
have just seen. Stubbs the Twelfth belongs to a millionaire in Albany.
Allow me to congratulate you, madam,"--extending his hand,--"on having
secured one of the finest dogs in America. And you also, Mr. Fryback, on
having a wife who is such a discriminating judge of thoroughbreds."

Mr. Fryback looked a trifle startled, but said nothing.

"If you ever come to our town, Mr. Crow, I hope you will look us up,"
broke in Mr. Fox. "Our place is about two miles out in the country. By
the way, has Mrs. Crow a good dog--I mean o