It was useless for Mrs. Lewis to try and make the sheriff and his posse believe Little Snap had gone away as she had said, until they had searched the house from top to bottom. Then they unanimously decided that he had run away! In the midst of the excitement Mr. Rimmon appeared on the scene, when the distracted mother appealed to him. "He told you that he was going to Volney, didn't he, Mr. Rimmon?" The postmaster shook his head. "I have not seen him since we parted after the trial. I am sorry this has happened." "Well, it puts me in a hard place," said the sheriff, "and I tell you what I shall be obliged to do. If he don't turn up before morning, I shall raze this house to the ground and put every one of you in jail! So if you know where the precious scamp is hiding, bring him forth, or the worst will be your own." In vain Mrs. Lewis explained, pleaded with the obdurate men. The only hope she could have was in the promise that nothing should be done until six o'clock in the morning. If Little Snap failed to come then, no mercy would be shown to the family. "He will! he will! I am sure of that!" "Then be calm and wait. We must keep a guard about the house." At daylight it seemed that every inhabitant of Six Roads was astir, and anxious, excited groups began to collect here and there. Excepting Mrs. Lewis, Mr. Rimmon was perhaps the most anxious person, and he kept an almost continual watch up and down the road. "It was the height of folly for him to have started off in that way. It is utterly impossible for him to get here by six, and if he don't, God have mercy on his home. I am powerless to help them. What! Can it be so near six? Here comes Shag for the mail bag." Mounted upon a tall, raw-boned horse, the postmaster of Hollow Tree rode up in front of the post office. "Good-morning, Mr. Rimmon. I s'pose ye heerd what th' judge sed las' evenin' thet I'm to carry th' mail arter this. I hev resigned the Tree office, so it's all regular. Seein' I'm new to th' bizness, I thought mebbe ye wouldn't object to lettin' me start a leetle arly th' fust time." "I shall object, most decidedly, Mr. Shag." "Hev yit yer own way, Mr. Rimmon, though ye'll find I ain't a boy to be run over. Ye'll let me hev it at six sharp, or thar'll be war in th' United States camp." To this the postmaster made no reply, while one and all waited the outcome of this trying scene. In the midst of the fearful ordeal the sun rose above the crest of the distant mountains, and then a murmur ran along the expectant crowd. "It's six o'clock!" cried Sheriff Brady, consulting his watch. "The time is up, Mrs. Lewis, and the boy has not come, as I knew he wouldn't. I have kept my word, and you cannot expect any more." "It's six!" exclaimed Dan Shag, moving uneasily in his saddle. "Hand over thet mail bag, Mr. Rimmon, fer ye can't hol' it enny longer."