dn't imagine such a thing as a strictly sober man telling him to go
to grass. He was the most important man in Tinkletown.

Further discussion was prevented by the approach of Mr. Crow's daughter,
Susie, accompanied by a tall, pink-faced young man in a resplendent
checked suit and a dazzling red necktie. They came from Brubaker's
popular drugstore and ice-cream "parlour," two doors below.

"Hello, Pop," said Susie gaily, as the couple sauntered past their
half-halting seniors.

"H'are you, Mr. Crow?" was the young man's greeting, uttered with the
convulsive earnestness of sudden embarrassment. "Fine day, ain't it?"

Mr. Crow said that it was, and then both he and Alf stopped short in
their tracks and gazed intently at the backs of the young people. Even
as they stared, a fiery redness enveloped the ears of Susie's companion.
A few steps farther on he turned his head and looked back. Something
that may be described as sheepish defiance marked that swift,
involuntary glance.

Mr. Reesling broke the silence. There was a worried, sympathetic note in
his voice.

"Got on his Sunday clothes, Anderson, and this is only Wednesday. Beats
the Dutch, don't it?"

"I wonder--" began Mr. Crow, and then closed his lips so tightly and so
abruptly that his sparse chin whiskers stuck out almost horizontally.

He started off briskly in the wake of the young people. Alf, forgetting
his own apprehensions in the face of this visible manifestation,
shuffled along a few paces behind.

Miss Crow and her companion turned the corner below and were lost to
view.

"By gosh," said Alf, suddenly increasing his speed until he came abreast
of the other; "you better hurry, Anderson. Justice Robb's in his office.
I seen his feet in the winder a little while ago."

"They surely can't be thinkin' of--" Mr. Crow did not complete the
sentence.

"Why not?" demanded Alf. "Everybody else is. And it would be just like
that Schultz boy to do it without an invitation. Ever since this war's
been goin' on them Schultzes have been blowin' about always bein'
prepared fer anything. German efficiency's what they're always throwin'
up to people. I bet he's been over to the county seat an' got a license
to--"

Anderson interrupted him with a snort. He put his hand on his right hip
pocket, where something bulged ominously, and quickened his pace.

"I been watchin' these Schultzes fer nearly a year," said he, "an' the
whole caboodle of 'em are spies."

Th