rock, and extending his big golden-headed cane as if it was a spear and
he was poising to immediately impale a victim. The colonel's brow was a
veritable thundercloud.

"Yes, sir," announced Bart promptly--"what can I do for you?"

Bart did not get excited in the least. He looked so cool and collected
that the colonel ground his teeth, stamped his foot and advanced
swinging his cane alarmingly.

"I've come to see you--" he began, and choked on the words.

"May I ask what for?" interrogated Bart.

Colonel Harrington shook, as he placed his cane under his arm and took
out his big plethoric wallet.

He selected a strip of paper and held it between his forefinger and
thumb.

"Young man," he observed, "do you know what that is?"

Bart shook his head.

"Well, I'll tell you, it's a bill, do you hear? a bill. It's for
eighty-five dollars, damage done maliciously on my private grounds,
yesterday evening. It represents the bare cost of a new copper pedestal
to replace the one you shot to pieces last night, and it's a wonder you
are not in jail for murder, for had that cannon ball struck a human
being--Enough! before I take up this outrage with the district attorney