"Whar' d'ye say the gal was,--in my gaol?" the sheriff inquires, with solemn earnestness, and drawling his words measuredly, as if the whole affair was quite within his line of business. The sheriff has the opportunity of making a nice little thing of it; the object to be released will serve the profits of the profession. "Gittin' that gal out yander ain't an easy thing now, 'taint! It'll cost ye 'bout twenty dollars, sartin," he adds, turning over the leaves of his big book, and running his finger down a scale of names. "I don't care if it costs a hundred! Give me an order for her release!" M'Carstrow begins to understand Mr. Sheriff's composition, and putting his hand into his pocket, draws forth a dwenty-dollar gold piece, throws it upon the table. The effect is electric: it smooths down the surface of Mr. Sheriff's nature,--brings out the disposition to accommodate. The Sheriff's politeness now taxes M'Carstrow's power to reciprocate. "Now, ye see, my friend," says Mr. Sheriff, in a quaint tone, "there's three fi fas on that critter. Hold a minute!" He must needs take a better glance; he runs his fingers over the page again, mutters to himself, and then breaks out into a half-musical, half-undefinable humming. "It's a snarled-up affair, the whole on't. T'll take a plaguy cunnin' lawyer to take the shine out." The sheriff pushes the piece of coin nearer the inkstand, into the centre of the table. "I feel all over like accommodatin' ye," he deigns to say; "but then t'll be so pestky crooked gettin' the thing straight." He hesitates before the wonderful difficulty,--he can't see his way straight through it. "Three fi fas! I believe I'm correct; there's one principal one, however." "I pledge my honour for her return in the morning; and she shall be all shined up with a new dress. Her presence is imperatively necessary to-night," M'Carstrow remarks, becoming impatient. "Two fi fas!-well, the first look looked like three. But, the principal one out of the way,--no matter." Mr. Sheriff becomes more and more enlightened on the unenlightened difficulties of the law. He remarks, touching M'Carstrow on the arm, with great seriousness of countenance, "I sees how the knot's tied. Ye know, my functions are turned t' most everything; and it makes a body see through a thing just as straight as--. Pest on't! Ye see, it's mighty likely property,--don't strike such every day. That gal 'll bring a big tick in the market-" "Excuse me, my dear sir," M'Carstrow suddenly interrupts. "Understand me, if you please. I want her for nothing that you contemplate,--nothing, I pledge you my honour as a southern gentleman!"