if they heard about you to-day sometime."
Mr. Gwinne looked through the window at the visible wedge of
Hillsboro, wavy low hills and winding streets; looked with long and
lingering interest, and added irrelevantly: "I knew your father."

* * * * *

Late that afternoon a heavy knock came at the outer door of the jail.
Gwinne hustled his prisoner into a cell and answered the call.

He was greeted at the door by Aloys Preisser, the assayer, a
gay-hearted old Bavarian--the same for whom, in his youth, Preisser
Hill was named--and by Hobby Lull. Hobby's face was haggard and drawn;
there were dark circles under his eyes.

"We want to settle a bet," announced Hobby, "and we're leaving it
to you. I say that Robin Hood knocked out the Proud Sheriff of
Nottingham, and Preisser claims it was a draw. How about it?"

"Hood got the decision on points," said Gwinne soberly.

"There! What did I tell you, you old hunk of Limburger?" Hobby Lull
laid hands delicately upon his adversary's short gray beard and tugged
it with deferential gentleness. The unresisting head wagged sedately
to and fro. "Take that, you old bug hunter!" said Hobby, and stood
back, waiting.

The assayer became statuesque.

"You see, Mister Deputy? He has assauldt gommitted, and you a witness
are. With abusive language!"

"The wienerwurst is yet to come," observed Lull, in a voice sepulchral
and ominous.

"With threats also, and insults--abandoned ruffian! Desperate!
Catiline! Officer--do your duty! I make demand of you. Dake dot mon
into gustody!" Preisser's eyes were dancing as he fought down a grin.

Mr. Gwinne regarded the impassioned disputants with grave eyes.

"You are under arrest, Mr. Lull," he said with somber official
severity. "Can you give bail?"

"Not one red cent."

"Come in, then."

Lull followed through the door. Turning, he smiled back at the little
assayer. Preisser winked.

"I'll have to lock you up, you know," said Gwinne. "District attorney
particularly desired that no one should hold communication with Dines,
over yonder." He locked Lull in a cell; forgetfully leaving the key in
the lock. "Don't try to shout across to Dines, now," he warned. "I'll
hear you. Well, I'll be meanderin' along to the kitchen and starting
supper."

Hobby reached through the bars and turned the key. He went over to
Johnny's cell.

"Well, Dines, how goes it? You don't look much downhearted."

"I'm not," said John