In this appeal he was backed by Hiram, who volunteered his assistance in making the investigation.  And in the end, Cap’n Sproul, as first selectman of Smyrna, consented to visit the scene of alleged enchantment in “Purgatory,” though as private citizen he criticised profanely the state of mind that allowed him to go on such an errand.  He gnawed his beard, and a flush of something like shame settled on his cheek.  It seemed to him that he was allowing himself to be cajoled into a mild spree of lunacy.

“And there bein’ no time like the present, and my horse bein’ hitched out there in the shed,” advised Hiram, briskly, “why not go now?  Did you ride out from your place or walk?” he inquired of “Cheerful Charles.”

“Walked,” replied Mr. Gammon, dejectedly.  “My hoss is bewitched, too.  Can’t get him out of the stable.”

“We’ll take you along with us,” was Hiram’s kindly proffer.

“Him and that gander?” protested the Cap’n.

“I can set in behind with the garnder under my arm,” urged Mr. Gammon, meekly.

The Cap’n came around the table and angrily twitched the rope off Mr. Gammon’s neck.  That much concession to the convenances he demanded with a vigor that his doleful constituent did not gainsay.

When they drove away the baleful eye of the first selectman spied Squire Alcander Reeves furtively regarding them through the dingy glass of his office window.

“Me off witch-chasin’ and him standin’ there grinnin’ at it like a jezeboo!” he gritted.  And he surveyed, with no very gracious regard, his companions in this unspeakable quest.

When they were well out of the village Mr. Gammon twisted his neck and sought to impart more information over the back of the seat.

“I tell you, she’s a cooler when it comes to bedevilin’.  She had an old Leghorn hen that a mink killed just after the hen had brought out a brood of chickens.  And what do you s’pose she done?  Why, she went right to work and put a cluck onto the cat, and the cat has brooded ’em ever since.”

The Cap’n emitted a snort of disgust.

“And here we are, two sensible men, ridin’ around over this town an’ tryin’ to make head and tail out of such guff as that!  Do you pretend to tell me for one minute, Hiram Look, that you take any kind of stock in this sort of thing?  Now, just forget that cyclopedy business and your ancient history for a few minutes and be honest.  Own up that you were arguin’ to hear yourself talk, and that you’re dragging me out here to pass away the time.”

Hiram scratched his nose and admitted that now the Cap’n had asked for friendly candor, he really didn’t take much stock in witches.

“There!  I knew it!” cried the selectman, with unction and relief.  “And now that you’ve had your joke and done with it, let’s dump out old coffin-mug and his gander and turn round and go back about our business.”

But Hiram promptly whipped along.