we cart him over to the jail in Port Vigor, or shall we let him go?"

The tramp burst into a whining appeal that was almost funny, it was
so abject. The Professor cut it short.

"I ought to pack you into quod," he said. "Are you the Phoebus
Apollo I scuffled with down the lane last night? Was it you skulking
around this wagon then?"

"No, boss, that was Splitlip Sam, honest to Gawd it was. He come
back, boss; said he'd been fightin' with a cat-o'-mountain! Say,
boss, you sure hit him hard. One of his lamps is a pudding! Boss,
I'll swear I ain't had nothin' to do with it."

"I don't like your society," said the Professor, "and I'm going to
turn you loose. I'm going to count ten, and if you're not out of
this quarry by then, I'll shoot. And if I see you again I'll skin
you alive. Now get out!"

He cut the knotted handkerchief in two. The hobo needed no urging.
He spun on his heel and fled like a rabbit. The Professor watched
him go, and as the fat, ungainly figure burst through a hedge and
disappeared he fired the revolver into the air to frighten him still
more. Then he tossed the weapon into the pool near by.

"Well, Miss McGill," he said with a chuckle, "if you like to
undertake breakfast, I'll fix up Peg." And he drew the horse-shoe
from his pocket once more.

A brief inspection of Parnassus satisfied me that the thieves had