“He’s not the one to do the setting, Joe Sikes. It’s none of his business. That’s the girl’s lookout. Jane has named the day, if that’s what you want to know. It’s to be the tenth of November.” “He’s a lucky feller,” said the old man. “Think of a feller being able to get married to as purty a girl as Jane and still not have any brother-in-laws.” “I wish you’d get tired talking about brothers-in-law all the time,” she said, severely. “Don’t forget that you are a brother-in-law yourself, Joe Sikes. You are a brother-in-law to two men and—” “What are you trying to do, Serepty Grimes? Insult me? Make a mortal enemy out of me? For two cents I’d refuse to drink a mouthful of your coffee. And what’s more—” “Look out yonder, Joe—in the swamp,” she broke in, pointing through the fringe of trees. “There’s a crowd—” “Serepty!” he cried bleakly. “They—they have found something out yonder. I feel it in my bones. The corpus delicti. I guess I won’t have any coffee. I’ll just mosey out there and see what’s happened.” “Wait a minute. Isn’t that Silas Link coming across the swamp?” He groaned. “If it is, he’ll never get here. He’s too old and fat to be hurryin’ like that. He’ll drop dead. He’s got a weak heart.” “Sit down, Joe,” she said suddenly, after a quick look at his paling face. “I guess maybe I’d better,” he said weakly. “Just for a second or two. My legs seem sort of wobbly and—” “Don’t sit down yet,” she cried. “Wait till we get to the steps. You’ll break a hip or something if you sit down—” “Ain’t your legs sort of weak and—” “No, they’re not,” she interrupted tartly. “Lean on me, Joe.” “I’ll be dogged if I do!” he snorted vigorously. “What do you take me for? Lean on a woman! Blast your eyes, Serepty Grimes—how many more times are you going to insult me to-day? Let me tell you one thing more. I’m not going to set down as long as Silas Link is on his feet. I am no quitter!” he bellowed, squaring his broad old shoulders. “Not by a blamed sight!” They stood and waited. In due time, Silas Link panted his way up the incline and came shuffling toward them. He stopped at the corner of the barnyard, leaning against the fence to get his breath. Mr. Sikes stalked forward, followed by Mrs. Grimes. “Well?” demanded the former. “They—fished—up—a—carcass,” puffed Mr. Link. Absolute silence—except for the painful wheezing of the last speaker. “Ollie’s?” asked Mr. Sikes at last, and quickly hooked his arm through that of the tottering Mrs. Grimes. “No telling. Unrecognizable. Been in the mire for a long time, according to my best judgment.” “Sure it’s a—a human being?” “Certainly.” “Male or female?” “Didn’t I tell you it had been in the mire for a long time?” “It must have had clothes on,” put in Mrs. Grimes stoutly. “Wouldn’t you know Ollie Baxter’s clothes if you—” “Hasn’t got any clothes on. Not a stitch. Shoes or anything. It ain’t got _anything_ on. Not even flesh.” “A—a skeleton?” gulped the old lady.