little walk for you."

I had been rapidly revolving the matter in my mind. What was I to
do with this wretch who was now asleep in my outer kitchen? If I
woke him up and drove him off,--and I might have difficulty in
doing it,--there was every reason to believe that he would not go
far, but return at night and commit some revengeful act. I never
saw a more sinister-looking fellow. And he was certainly drunk.
He must not be allowed to wander about our neighborhood. I would
go for the constable and have him arrested.

So I locked the door from the kitchen into the house and then the
outside door of the kitchen, and when my wife came down we hurried
off. On the way I told her what I intended to do, and what I
thought of our guest. She answered scarcely a word, and I hoped
that she was frightened. I think she was.

The constable, who was also coroner of our township, had gone to a
creek, three miles away, to hold an inquest, and there was nobody
to arrest the man. The nearest police-station was at Hackingford,
six miles away, on the railroad. I held a consultation with the
station-master, and the gentleman who kept the grocery-store
opposite.

They could think of nothing to be done except to shoot the man, and
to that I objected.

"However," said I, "he can't stay there;" and a happy thought just
then striking me, I called to the boy who drove the village
express-wagon, and engaged him for a job. The wagon was standing