“We want to s-s-speak about George Piggins,” says Mark. “Have you seen that there crim’nal? Eh? Where’s he hidin’? I know he’s dangerous and desprit, but be I hesitatin’? Be I timid? I guess not. Sheriff Whoppleham would be willin’ to face Jesse James and drag him to jail by the whiskers. Lucky for them Western bandits I never went out there to mix in. I’d have cleaned ’em up perty quick.” “We don’t know where he is,” says Mark, “but we want to talk to you about f-f-fixin’ up that hog-stealin’ so he can come home and not be molested.” “Fix it? How?” “Well, Mr. Hooker’s got back his hog and no harm’s been done. We f-f-figgered maybe you would be willin’ to call it square and let George come home if he promised never to do it again.” “Huh!” says the sheriff. “What’s everybody so doggone int’rested into George for, all of a sudden? Nobody was excited about him none a spell back, but now it looks like everybody seen all to once that there wasn’t no harm in him and he ought to be let home without havin’ to suffer for bein’ a miscreant. What’s the meanin’ of it?” “Has somebody else been to see about him?” says Mark. “I should smile,” says the sheriff. “Why, this mornin’ there was a reg’lar delegation, and who d’you s’pose come along with them but Hooker himself? Yes, sir. And they wanted the charge should be dropped and George let home. I says to ’em that my job was ketchin’ dangerous crim’nals, not pardonin’ ’em, and that they’d have to thrash it out with the prosecutin’ attorney. So they went off to do that.... What I want to know is, how do they expect a officer of the law to do his duty and bring crim’nals to justice if folks goes around gettin’ ’em let off by prosecutin’ attorneys? How? Eh? Well, then. They’re cuttin’ into my trade, that’s what, and I hain’t goin’ to stand for it. I’m goin’ out to ketch George Piggins before he gits pardoned, that’s what I be, and I’m a-goin’ to drag him to jail dead or alive. When I git him there they can do like they please, but _my_ duty’ll be did.” Well, we saw there wasn’t any good hanging around there, so we went along, and Mark was looking pretty serious. “Wiggamore means b-business,” says he. “He hain’t lettin’ any grass grow under his feet, is he?” “Calc’late it was Wiggamore that tried to get George out of trouble?” “Of course it was,” says he, “and he’ll do it, too. Well, let him. That saves us the t-trouble. While he’s botherin’ with that, we can be l-lookin’ for George.” “I wonder if Miss Piggins knows where he is?” “’Tain’t likely,” says Mark. “I don’t b’lieve it, but we kin keep an eye on her. George was always a powerful hungry f-feller, and if she knows and he’s anywheres around, we’ll see her sneakin’ out with a basket of grub.” “She’d do it at night,” says I. “Yes,” says he. “So there’s nothin’ for us to do but wait,” says I. “You n-never make no money waitin’,” says Mark. “We got to be d-d-doin’ somethin’.” “We’ll be kept busy to-day loadin’ that car.”