"I wasn't half so much scared as you were when I wanted you to arrest the giant." It was the constable's turn to look embarrassed. "Who said I was afraid?" "It was enough to look at you," said Tarbox. "Well, maybe I was a little flustered," admitted Spriggins. "Who wouldn't be afraid of a man ten feet high? They do say, Tarbox, that you did some pretty tall running, and there wasn't no tiger loose after all." And Mr. Constable indulged in a chuckle which irritated the farmer intensely. He resolved to retaliate. "Do you know where I am goin', Spriggins?" he asked. "No." "Then I'll tell you," answered Tarbox, with a malicious smile. "I'm goin' to Squire Price to get another warrant for the arrest of Anak—I've found out that that's his name—and I'm goin' to get you to serve it." The constable's countenance changed. "Don't be foolish, Mr. Tarbox," he said. "I understand my business, Spriggins, and I shall expect you to do yours. I'll see you again in half an hour." "I may not be at home; I expect I've got to go over to Medville." "Then put it off. Your duty to the State is ahead of all private business." He went on his way leaving Mr. Spriggins in a very uneasy frame of mind. When he went home to supper, he said to his wife: "Mrs. S., after supper I'm going up into the attic, and if Nathan Tarbox comes round and asks for me, you say that I'm out of town." "But it wouldn't be true, Spriggins," replied his wife. "I know it won't; but he wants me to arrest the giant, and it's as much as my life is worth," answered the constable, desperately. "I don't think I'm a coward, but I ain't a match for a giant." The farmer, however, did not come round. He had only made the statement to frighten Spriggins, and retaliate upon him for his joke about the tiger. In the afternoon Robert, while out for a walk, fell in with one of the canvas men, a rough-looking fellow, named, or at least he called himself, Carden. Canvas men, as may be inferred from the name, are employed in putting up and taking down the circus tent, and are generally an inferior set of men, not differing much from the professional tramp. Robert, who, in spite of his asseverations, had considerable self-respect and proper pride, never mingled much with them, and for that reason was looked upon as "putting on airs." His friend, Charlie Davis, was much more popular with them. "Hallo, Robert," said Carden, familiarly. The canvas man was smoking a short, dirty clay pipe, and would have made an admirable model for a picture of a tramp. "Hello, Carden!" said Robert, coolly. "Walkin' for your health?" asked the canvas man, in the same disagreeably familiar tone. "Partly." Carden was walking by his side, and Robert did not like the familiarity which this would seem to imply. "Pretty good town, this!" continued Carden, socially. "Yes." "Sorry I haven't another pipe to offer you, Robert, my boy." "Thank you; I shouldn't use it." "Don't mean to say you don't smoke, eh, Bob?"