“Hi! Here comes the circus, the elephant in the lead!” announced Jimmy West, a wit among the mill hands, as he caught sight of the outline of the approaching group. Shultz marched ahead; then came the wheel-barrow and Clem; then Don, his revolver ever ready. “Ah, what--what have you here? What does this mean, my son?” Mr. Stapley queried. “Fer goodness’ sake, hit’s Dutchy Shultz an’ another feller, thet them there boys hez brung in!” remarked an ancient citizen. “Dis vas von outrache, py gollies! I vill nod--” “Shut up, Shultz, I told you, or you’ll get plugged yet!” Don threatened. The crowd did not embarrass him. “We think this is your dynamiter, Dad,” Clem stated, calmly. He had had time to compose himself. “Eh? What makes you think so?” “Got a lot of reasons, Dad; a lot of evidence against this fellow.” “So? But what’s the matter with him?” “Donald shot him. He isn’t much hurt, I guess. But we don’t know. We just brought them along.” “Hey, Mr. Strang, here, evidently, is a job for you! And we’d better have Doctor Richards here again.” The town constable clambered out from among the wreckage of the office building where he had been searching for clues and approached. Amid the buzz of remarks and questions he paused long enough to consider and then to become somewhat nettled at what appeared like high-handed proceedings beyond his authority. “What’s this? You kids make an arrest? Took a lot on yourselves, I’m thinkin’. Eh? Shot this fellow? Hello! You Shultz? Huh! This looks like pretty darned bold business to me. Put down that gun, young fellow!” This to Don. “You go and sit down will you? Maybe you think I’ve had no use for this.” Don was still seeing red, but with all of his wits working. “Mr. Stapley, you get busy on this; you’re most interested. This gink,” indicating the constable, “couldn’t catch a mudturtle that had robbed a hen roost in the middle of the day. There’s just one thing to do: bring the watchman here.” “Put up that gun, I tell you!” ordered Strang, starting toward Don. “If you want to fill an early grave you get gay with me now!” Don said, backing off around the crowd. Mr Stapley interposed. “Put up your pistol, Donald. We’ll take care of this matter now.” “But, Mr. Stapley, Shultz will get away! He and Strang are old cronies. Many a jag Strang got in Shultz’s place when he had his saloon; everybody knows that.” This caused a general laugh. “Let him alone, Strang. Perhaps these boys have done us a big service.” “Well, if you think maybe we’ve got the wrong men, just get the watchman here,” Don reiterated. “Davis went home and to bed,” announced a bystander. “Well, we can wake him; we’ll wheel these fellows over there and let him see this one,” Don insisted.