"The thing to do," said Mort Fryback, "is to take this box down to the crick an' drop it in, all locked and everything. That will put an end to the cussed things, better'n any 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. Swaller pigs an' sheep--_and_ children whole, they say." Mr. Fox approached. He was now very polite and ingratiating. "Permit me," he observed, "to offer a solution. If you will give me a bunch of keys, my friend, I will remove the case to my room and open it--if possible. No harm will come to anybody, and in one hour or so, my wife and I will be on our way. My automobile is in your local garage, Mr. Hawk, and we can be ready to start as soon as we have fed and aired the--er--shall we say contents?" "You arrest him, Anderson," cried Mrs. Bloomer. "Hold him till I estimate the damage that's been done to my property. He's got to pay fer that before he can get out of this town." "I guess you'd better step over to the calaboose with me, mister," said Anderson firmly. "And you too, ma'am. This here lady prefers charges against you, an' it's my duty to--" "What is the charge, madam?" demanded Mr. Fox, lighting a cigarette. "Never mind," said the Marshal; "we'll attend to that later." Mr. Fryback put in a word at this point. "Yes, but who's going to take charge of this here box? It can't stay here in my place. First thing you know the derned things will gnaw a hole in the side and git out." "If it is not too far, Mr. 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 ain't 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. "Newt's always braggin' about not being afraid of anything." "Well, perhaps it would be just as well not to tell 'em what's in this here box," said Anderson. He turned to the pair of strangers. "Only they ain't going to carry it to the calaboose. They're going to carry it to the crick, an' throw it in." The young woman uttered a cry of dismay, and her husband uttered something distinctly out of place, for Mrs. Bloomer again told him he ought to be ashamed of himself.