Quincy was a little taken aback, for the appeal was unexpected, but he quickly recovered his self-possession and said in a low but pleasant voice, “I am afraid that my story will have to depend on the way it is told rather than upon its novelty.”  He wondered if his hearers were acquainted with the travels of Baron Munchausen, but decided to try the experiment.  “About a year ago,” resumed Quincy, “I went down to Maine on some law business.  I transacted it, but had to travel some ten miles to the county town to record my papers.  I had a four-wheeled buggy, and a strong, heavily-built horse.  It began to snow very fast after I started, but I knew the road and drove steadily on.  As I approached the county town I noticed that the snow was deeper than the highest building in the town, in fact, none of the town was visible, excepting about three feet of the spire of the tallest church in the place.”

Quincy stopped and glanced about the table.  Every eye was fastened upon him, and all, including the Professor and Stiles particularly, were listening intently.  Quincy continued his story: 

“I was well supplied with buffalo robes, so after tying my horse firmly to the weather vane on the spire, I made up a bed on the snow with my buffalo robes, and slept soundly and comfortably all night.  When I woke in the morning I was still enveloped in the robes, but found to my surprise that I was lying upon the ground.  I looked around, but there was no sign of snow anywhere.  I arose and looked about for my horse and buggy, but they were not in sight.  Then I remembered that I had tied my horse to the weather vane.  Casting my eyes upward I saw my horse and buggy hanging by the strap, the horse having secured a footing on the side of the spire.  Happily I had a revolver with me, and with one shot I severed the broad leathern strap.  Naturally the horse and buggy fell to the ground.  I put my buffalo robes back into the buggy, rode to the court house, had my papers recorded, and then drove back ten miles to town, none the worse for my adventure, but the stableman charged me fifty cents for the strap that I was obliged to leave on the church spire.”

A number of low whistles, intermixed with several “whews!” were heard, as Quincy finished his story.

“Wall, by thunder!” ejaculated Stiles, “how do yer account for—­”

“I think it must have been a sudden thaw,” remarked Quincy, with a grave face.

“One thing puzzles me,” said the Professor.

“What is that?” asked Quincy politely, “perhaps I can explain.”

“Before you left the church,” asked the Professor, “why didn’t you reach up and ontie that strap?”

Another loud shout of laughter broke from the company, and Quincy, realizing that the Professor had beaten him fairly by putting a point on his own story, joined heartily in the laugh at his own expense.

“That reminds me,” said Abner Stiles, “of an adventure that I had several years ago, down in Maine, when I wuz younger and spryer’n I am now.”