e middle of November. 'Bout seventy
dollars, rough figgerin'. Now, then, hand it over."

"What?"

"Hand over that seventy dollars."

"Hand over hell! What are you talkin' 'bout?"

The Captain rose and, leaning over, shook his forefinger in Mr.
Saunders' flabby red face.

"You low-lived, thievin' rascal," he said, "I'm givin' you a chance you
don't deserve. Either you'll pay me that money you've stole from that
girl or I'll walk out of that door, and when I come in again the sheriff
'll be with me. Now, which 'll it be? Think quick."

Web's triumphant expression was gone, and rage and malice had taken its
place. He saw, now, that the Captain had tricked him into telling
more than he ought. But he burst out again, tripping over words in his
excitement.

"Think!" he yelled. "I don't need to think. Bring in your sheriff. I'll
march down to your house and I'll show him the man that set fire to my
buildin'. What 'll you and that snivelin' granddaughter of his do then?
You make off to think a turrible lot of the old prayer-machine 'cause
he's your chum. How'd you like to see him took up for a firebug, hey?"

"I ain't afraid of that."

"You ain't? You AIN'T! Why not?"

"'Cause he's gone where you can't git at him. He died jest afore I left
the house."

Mr. Saunders' brandished fist fell heavily on the arm of his chair. His
face turned white in patches, and then flamed red again.

"Died!" he gasped.

"Died."

"You--you're a liar!"

"No, I ain't. John Baxter's dead. He was a chum of mine--you're right
there--and if I'd known a sneak like you was after him I'd have been
here long afore this. Why, you--"

The Captain's voice shook, but he restrained himself and went on.

"Now, you see where you stand, don't you? Long's John lived you had
the proof to convict him; I'll own up to that much. I hid the coat; I
smashed the bottle. The hat I didn't know 'bout. I might have told you
at fust that all that didn't amount to anything, but I thought I'd wait
and let you tell me what more I wanted to know. John Baxter's gone,
poor feller, and all your proof ain't worth a cent. Not one red cent.
Understand?"

It was quite evident that Mr. Saunders did understand, for his
countenance showed it. But the bluster was not out of him yet.

"All right," he said. "Anyhow, the girl's left, and if she don't pay
I'll show her granddad up for what he was. And I'll show you up, too.
Yes, I will!" he shouted, as this possibility bega