Just then I heard the voice of Purvis shouting back in the crowd this impassioned plea: "Bart, for God's sake, come here." I turned to Curtis and said: "If the gentleman tried to serve the writ he acted without orders and deserves what he has got. The other fellow is simply a hired man who came along to take care of the horses. He couldn't tell the difference between a writ and a hole in the ground." "Men, you have gone fur enough," said Curtis. "This man is all right. Bring the other men here and put 'em on their horses an' I'll escort 'em out o' the town." They brought Latour on a rail amidst roars of laughter. What a bear-like, poultrified, be-poodled object he was!--burred and sheathed in rumpled gray feathers from his hair to his heels. The sight and smell of him scared the horses. There were tufts of feathers over his ears and on his chin. They had found great joy in spoiling that aristocratic livery in which he had arrived. Then came poor Purvis. They had just begun to apply the tar and feathers to him when Curtis had stopped the process. He had only a shaking ruff of long feathers around his neck. They lifted the runaways into their saddles. Purvis started off at a gallop, shouting "Come on, Bart," but they stopped him. "Don't be in a hurry, young feller," said one of the Indians, and then there was another roar of laughter. "Go back to yer work now," Curtis shouted, and turning to me added: "You ride along with me and let our feathered friends follow us." So we started up the road on our way back to Cobleskill. Soon Latour began to complain that he was hot and the feathers pricked him. "You come alongside me here an' raise up a little an' I'll pick the inside o' yer legs an' pull out yer tail feathers," said Curtis. "If you got 'em stuck into yer skin you'd be a reg'lar chicken an' no mistake." I helped in the process and got my fingers badly tarred. "This is a dangerous man to touch--his soul is tarred," said Curtis. "Keep away from him." "What a lookin' skunk you be!" he laughed as he went on with the picking. We resumed our journey. Our guide left us at the town line some three miles beyond. "Thank God the danger is over," said Purvis. "The tar on my neck has melted an' run down an' my shirt sticks like the bark on a tree. I'm sick o' the smell o' myself. If I could find a skunk I'd enjoy holdin' him in my lap a while. I'm goin' back to St. Lawrence County about as straight as I can go. I never did like this country anyway." He had picked the feathers out of his neck and Latour was now busy picking his arms and shoulders. Presently he took off his feathered coat and threw it away, saying: "They'll have to pay for this. Every one o' those jackrabbits will have to settle with me." "You brought it on yourself," I said. "You ran away from me and got us all into trouble by being too smart. You tried to be a fool and succeeded beyond your expectation. My testimony wouldn't help you any."