Batson Reeves brought the crowd.

It was plainly one of the opportunities of his life.

The word that he circulated, as he rattled down to Broadway’s store and back, was that Cap’n Sproul and Hiram Look had attacked him with murderous intent, and that after he had bravely fought them off they had wantonly grabbed Mr. Dependence Crymble, jabbed him down a hole in the ground and kicked the hole in on him.

“I’ve always vowed and declared they was both lunatics,” cried the returning Mr. Reeves.  He darted accusatory finger at the disconsolate pair where they stood gazing down upon the place of Crymble’s sepulture.  “They was hatchin’ a plot and I busted it, and now this is what they’ve done for revenge.  And I’ll leave it to Mis’ Crymble herself, who stands there and who saw it all.”

Mrs. Crymble was in a state of mind to take the cue promptly, and affirmed the charge with an inspirational wealth of detail and a ferocity of shrill accusation that took effect on the crowd in spite of the lack of logic.  In moments of excitement crowds are not discriminating.  The Cap’n and Hiram gazed with some uneasiness on the lowering faces.

“They beat his brains out, gents,” she screamed—­“beat the brains out of the husband that had just come home to me after roamin’ the wide world over.  Hang ’em, I say!  And I’ll soap the clothes-line if you’ll do it!”

“Ain’t she a hell-cat, though!” muttered Hiram.

“When I think of what I was tryin’ to make that poor critter do,” said Cap’n’ Sproul, absent-mindedly kicking a loosened clod into the hole, “I’m ashamed of myself.  I reckon he’s better off down there than up here.  I don’t wish him back.”

“If accused wish to say anything in their own defence it will be heard,” declaimed Squire Alcander, advancing from the gathering throng.  “Otherwise, Constable Nute will—­”

“Constable Nute will keep his distance from me,” roared Cap’n Sproul, “or he’ll get his everlastin’ come-uppance.  I can stand a certain amount of dum foolishness, and I serve notice that I’ve had full amount served out.  Now you loafers standin’ round gawpin, you grab anything that will scoop dirt and get to work diggin’ here.”

“I don’t propose to have no bill of expense run up on me,” announced Mrs. Crymble, “I’ve paid out for him all I’m goin’ to, and I got done long ago.”

“Bereaved and lovin’ widder heard, neighbors and friends,” said the Cap’n, significantly.  “Now go ahead, people, and believe what she says about us, if you want to!  Get to work here.”

“You sha’n’t stir a shovelful of that dirt,” declared Mrs. Crymble.  “You’ll claim day’s wages, every one of you.”

“Wages is cheaper in Chiny,” said the Cap’n satirically.  “You can cable round and have him dug out from that side if you want to.  But I’m tellin’ you right here and now that he’s goin’ to be dug out from one side or the other.”

“He’s dead and he’s buried, ain’t he?” demanded Reeves, rallying to the support of the widow.  “What more is there to do?”