At first Mr. Saunders positively refused to sign. Then he intimated that he had rather wait and think it over a little while. Finally he affixed his signature and spitefully threw the pen across the room. Captain Eri folded up the paper and put it in his pocket. Then he rose and put on his pea jacket. “Now, there's jest one thing more,” he said. “Trot out that coat and hat.” “What do you mean?” “Trot out that coat and hat of John's. I want 'em.” “I shan't do it.” “All right, then. It's all off. I'll step over and see the Jedge. You'll hear from him and me later.” “Hold on a minute, Cap'n. You're in such a everlastin' hurry. I don't care anything 'bout the old duds, but I don't know's I know where they are. Seems to me they're up to the house somewheres. I'll give 'em to you to-morrer.” “You'll give 'em to me right now. I'll tend shop while you go after 'em.” For a moment it looked as though the man of business would rebel outright. But the Captain was so calm, and evidently so determined to do exactly what he promised, that “Web” gave up in despair. Muttering that maybe they were “'round the place, after all,” he went into the back room and reappeared with the burned coat and the scorched white felt hat. Slamming them down on the counter, he said sulkily, “There they be. Any more of my prop'ty you'd like to have?” Captain Eri didn't answer. Coolly tearing off several sheets of wrapping paper from the roll at the back of the counter, he made a bundle of the hat and coat, and tucked it under his arm. Then he put on his own hat and started for the door. “Good-mornin',” he said. The temper of the exasperated Mr. Saunders flared up in a final outburst. “You think you're almighty smart, don't you?” he growled between his teeth. “I'll square up with you by and by.” The Captain turned sharply, his hand on the latch. “I wish you'd try,” he said. “I jest wish to God you'd try. I've held in more 'n I thought I could when I come up here, but if you want to start a reel fust-class rumpus, one that 'll land you where you b'long and rid this town of you for keeps, jest try some of your tricks on me. And if I hear of one word that you've said 'bout this whole bus'ness, I'll know it's time to start in. Now, you can keep still or fight, jest as you please. I tell you honest, I 'most wish you'd fight.” The door slammed. Mr. Saunders opened it again and gazed vindictively after the bulky figure splashing through the slush. The dog came sneaking up and rubbed his nose against his master's hand; it was an impolitic move on his part. “Git out!” roared Web, delighted at the opportunity. “You good-for-nothin' pup! How's that set?”