"I have no difficulty in believing that," said Sherwood judicially. "Your
case is mighty weak yet, Cal."

"But he claims it was so hard that they used it for a grindstone."

"I did not!" disclaimed Webb indignantly.

An accusing groan met this statement.

"I tell you I didn't say anything of the kind," roared Webb, his bull voice
overtopping them all.

"Well, what did you say, then?" challenged Calhoun Bennett.

"I said we tried to use her as a grindstone," said Webb, "but it didn't
work."

"Weak case, boys; weak case," said Sherwood.

The little group, their eyes wide, their nostrils distended, waited
accusingly for Webb to proceed. After an interval, the sheriff, staring
critically at the lighted end of his cigar, went on in a drawling voice:

"Yes, we, couldn't get a hole through her to hang her axle on. We blunted
all our drills. Every Sunday we'd try a new scheme. Finally we laid her
flat under a tree and rigged a lightnin' rod down to the centre of her. No
use. She tore that lightning all to pieces."

He looked up at them with a limpid, innocent eye, to catch John Sherwood