d over the counter and went for him."

"That's so!" added Peverell, with increasing energy. "But we are
wasting time. Why don't you search your prisoner, and get the package?
If he stole it, he has the package now."

"Search me as much as you like!" replied Buckner, warmly.

"Search him!" "Overhaul him!" "Clean him out!" shouted the crowd, who
were working themselves up to a fever-heat over the case.

"He's thrown it away before this time," suggested Nick.

"He couldn't have thrown it away without some one seeing him do it,"
replied Peverell. "Did any one see him throw it away?"

"No! no!" shouted the bystanders.

I had seen Buckner running down the middle of the narrow street, with
the officer, Nick, Peverell, and others, within a few feet of him. It
would have been almost impossible for him to get rid of the bundle in
any way without being observed.

"He might have thrown it into the river," again suggested Nick.

"He done don't go widin twenty yards ob de riber; and he done don't
frow no package in de riber when I don't see him. Dis chile hab his
four eyes open all de time," added the policeman.

"Search him!" "Turn him inside out!" shouted the crowd again.

"Search me all you like!" cried Buckner, pulling out both the pockets
of his pants, and throwing up his arms in readiness to submit to the
operation. "I haven't got the package, and I never saw it."

"How big was de package, Mr. Peverell?" asked the officer, as he
proceeded to examine the clothing of the prisoner.

"It was the size of a bank-bill, and about two inches thick," replied
the messenger, very anxiously.

"I don't find noffin like dat on dis yere prisonder," said the officer,
when he had felt his man all over.

"You won't find nothing if you search me all day and all night,"
protested Buckner; and there was something like a proud dignity in his
manner, though he was not a good-looking man.

But it is possible to be honest without being handsome; and rogues
assume virtues they do not possess. Certainly, the valuable package was
not concealed upon the person of Buckner. The only alternative was,
that he had thrown it away,--cast it into some hole, or pitched it into
the river.

"There can be no doubt this is the man that took the package from the
counter, for no one else came near me while I was in the saloon,"
reasoned Peverell, whose vehemence had calmed down, and given place to
a deep anxiety.

"I've said all I have to say, and yo