George Barr McCutcheon

“ But she says I did it with my own hands, and—my gosh, Anderson, I never went through such a night in my life as last night.” He mopped his brow. “You'd think I was a murderer. Course, I denied it. I swore he wasn't dead, and that I'd increase the reward to a hundred dollars just to show her. What I want you to do, right away, is to have a new set of bills printed, offerin' a hundred dollars reward for that dog, instead of three. It's the only chance I've got of ever being able to live in my own house again.” ”

“ That will put an end to a cussed things, better'n other way I know.”
“A furious commotion took place inside the box, preventing further discussion on the part of the retreating observers. It was as if a dozen huge and powerful serpents were exerting every effort to escape.
The voice of Mrs. Fox, clear as a bell, assailed them from behind.
“They're hungry, poor things,” she cried. “Perfectly ravenous.”
“That settles it,” said Marshal Crow. “We've got to git rid of 'em if we 'have to set fire to your store, Mort. They're terrible when they haven't been fed fer a long time. ”

“ Why, doggone you, Andy Crow, if it wasn't fer me an' the way you keep on talkin' about juggin' me, you wouldn't have any excuse at all fer bein' town marshal. You—”
“That'll do now,” interrupted Anderson severely. “You have said them very words to me a thousand times, Alf Reesling, and— Who's that coming out of the post office?”
The group gradually turned to look up the street. Tinkletown is a slow place. Its inhabitants do everything with a deliberation that suggests the profoundest ennui. For example, a gentleman of Tinkletown rarely raised his hat on meeting a lady. ”

“ Fox. “Our place is about two miles out in the country. By the way, has Mrs. Crow a good dog—I mean one that she can be proud of?”
“She has a thoroughbred setter,” said Marshal Crow, compressing his lips.
“A hundred dollars is a lot of money fer a dog,” murmured Mr. Fryback. He met his wife's eye for a second and then added: “But, of course, my wife has just lost one that was worth a thousand dollars, so I guess it aint so much, after all.”
“Marmaduke was a really wonderful dog, Mrs. Fox,” vouchsafed Mort's wife, assuming a sad and pensive expression. ”

“ I can't take any chances of these terrible things gettin' loose an' drivin' our citizens out of town.”
“The first thing you got to do, Anderson Crow,” shouted Mrs. Bloomer, “is to capture the reptile that's loose in my hotel. that's you got to do.” She turned upon the pretty Mrs. Fox. “Snake charmer! That's a nice business for a woman to be in. Don't come near me.”
“I am not thinking of coming near you, you old rip!” said Mrs. Fox losing her temper in a very womanly fashion.
“None o' that, now—none o' that,” warned the town marshal. “Keep a civil head, young woman.” ”

“ Bloomer, “ladies, Mrs. Fox and I had planned giving a little exhibition at the hotel, but that now seems to be out of the question. Kindly bear in mind that we are not visiting your little city on pleasure bent. We are here strictly for business. As a rule we do not make one-night stands. But we have been attracted to your charming city almost against our will—although, I may add, it was at the earnest invitation of one of your most important denizens—I should say citizens. ”

“ If you wanted to show how much you think of your wife, and how anxious you are to please her, you could go as high as a thousand dollars, Mort.”
“Would you, reely, Anderson?”
“Sure. She could lord it over all these women—includin' my wife—who've been sayin' Mike wasn't worth fifty cents and didn't have a pedigree any longer than his tail. Why, if she wanted to go on lyin' about the value of that old dog, she could tell people she had been offered a thousand dollars for Marmyduke by a well-known dog collector in New York.” ”

“ Illustration: Anderson Crow marshaled a dozen or more able-bodied conscripts preparatory to a frontal attack. He had commandeered a double-barreled shotgun belonging to Bill Kepsal.
Elmer K. Pratt, the photographer, voiced a time-tried but fruitless criticism. “If you'd paste 'em up instead of tackin' 'em up, people couldn't take 'em down like that. I've told you—”
“If you got any complaints to make about me, Elmer, you'd better make 'em to the town board and not to Alf Reesling and Newt Spratt,” interrupted Marshal Crow testily. “Besides I do paste 'em up when I run out of tacks.” ”

“ In front of the two-story frame building that seemed to stagger, or at least to shrink, under the weight of its own importance, the stranger—a man—paused to glance at one of the placards heralding the misfortune and at the same time the far from parsimonious regard of the lady who had been despoiled of a fashionable bulldog. ”

“ He flung open the front door and addressed the group in front of the store, now increased to nearly a score, including several scattered women and children—and Ed Higgins' dog. “I call on all you men to assist me in surrounding the Grand View Hotel. There is dangerous work ahead, and I want only the bravest,—wait a second, Newt, don't go away,—and most determined men in town to volunteer. Here, Mort, you hand out some axes, an' pitchforks, an' crowbars, an'—”
“Oh, for heaven's sake, George,” cried Mrs. Fox frantically, “don't let them do it. Stop them!” ”

“ Alf and the town marshal had had one of their periodical “fallings out,” and, for the moment at least, the former was inclined to bitterness.
“To begin with,” explained Alf, “there aint a dog in this town that's worth stealin', to say nothin' of three dollars. You can't tell me that Mort Fryback would give three dollars to get that dog back, not even if he was alive—which he aint, if you c'n believe Bill Kepsal. No sir; it's just because Anderson wants to see his name in print, that's what it is. ”

“ Officer, I should be happy to carry the box over to the lock-up—unless, of course, some one else will volunteer. I see quite a number of citizens looking in through the window. Doubtless some of them might—”
“How long after a man's been on a bad spree is he likely to think he sees snakes?” demanded Anderson, struck with an idea.
“The time varies,” replied Mr. Fox, rather startled.
“Alf aint been tight in a good many years,” mused the Marshal. “I guess it would be safe to let him carry 'em. Don't you think so, Mort?”
“Him and Newt Spratt,” said Mort. ”

“ Fox just as that lady lifted the lid of the box.
Now, Mrs. Fryback was Mort's third wife; according to longevity statistics, she was much too young to die. As a matter of fact, she was little more than a bride. That probably accounts for the brand-new mink coat and muff she was sporting. Moreover, it accounts for Mort's surprising mendacity and even more amazing humility in relation to the taking-off of Mike. ”

“ 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 thorough-breds.”
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. ”