"You say he seized you by the collar and shook you up, Mr. Tarbox?" "Yes; he made the teeth chatter in my head till I thought they would drop out." "And he frightened you, did he?" "Yes; I thought he was goin' to take my life," said Mr. Tarbox, desiring to make the assault seem as aggravated as possible. A mild smile played over the placid face of the squire, who was evidently not impressed as he should have been by the recital of Mr. Tarbox's wrongs. "And then you called Bruiser, did you, Mr. Tarbox?" "Yes." "What did you expect Bruiser to do?" "I wanted him to tear the giant to pieces. He was just makin' for his legs when the brute drew back his foot and kicked him to death." In his excitement Mr. Tarbox rose and paced the room. Squire Price smiled again. It is to be feared he did not deplore, as he should have done, the sad and untimely fate of the amiable bull-dog. "Now, what do you want me to do, Mr. Tarbox?" "I want a warrant for the arrest of this big scoundrel." "For killing Bruiser? That appears to have been in self-defence." "No; for assault and battery on me, Nathan Tarbox, a free-born American citizen. It's come to a pretty pass if I am to be attacked and nearly killed by a foreign Norwegian, who has come over to America to take the bread from our own citizens." "Well, I suppose I must give you what you desire, Mr. Tarbox, if you insist upon it," said the squire. "Of course I insist upon it. I'm not goin' to be trampled under foot by a minion of a foreign power." "Do you happen to know the giant's name?" asked the squire. Mr. Tarbox scratched his head. "I can't say I rightly remember his name. I think it's Enoch." "Enoch! Very likely. That's a good Bible name. Just wait here a moment, Mr. Tarbox, and I will make out an order of arrest." The squire left the room and returned in five minutes with a paper duly drawn up, directing any constable or police officer to apprehend the giant known as Enoch, and produce before him to answer to a charge of assault and battery on Nathan Tarbox, a citizen of Crampton. There was more legal phraseology, but this was the purport of it. "Thank you, squire," said Mr. Tarbox, in evident gratification, as he deposited the valuable document which was to secure his revenge in the right inside pocket of his coat. "Who are you going to get to serve the warrant?" asked the squire. "Sam Spriggins; he's the nearest constable." "Very well," said the squire, with a peculiar smile. "I'm going to have him arrested just as the evening performance is to commence," said Mr. Tarbox, triumphantly; "that'll trouble him, and probably they'll cut off his pay, but it'll serve him right." After Mr. Tarbox left the squire had a quiet laugh, but as he did not mention to any one what had aroused his mirth we are left to conjecture what it was all about.