“I—­I don’t want any supper,” she sobbed.  “Please, oh, please don’t make me eat it.”

The Captain hesitated, turned back, and jerked his own chair to the table.

“Well,” he demanded brusquely, “the supper’s here and somebody’s got to eat it, I cal’late.  Fetch it on, Isaiah!  What are you starin’ at me like that for, you dumbhead?”

Isaiah brought in the supper.  Then he demanded to know what the fuss was all about.  Shadrach told him.  Isaiah’s chief interest seemed to center on the attempted shooting.

“Why the son of a swab!” he cried, excitedly.  “Of all the cheek I ever heard of in my life that Abner Bacheldor’s got the heft!  To borrer a man’s own gun—­yes, and cartridges, too—­to kill that man’s own cat with!  Of all the solid brass!  He never told me ’twas our cat.  All he wanted to know was could he borrer your gun and somethin’ to load it with.  If I’d known—­”

His employer interrupted him.  “What?” he roared.  “Do you mean to say that Ab Bacheldor came here and borrowed my gun to—­to do what he done with?”

“Sartin sure he did.  And only this very afternoon, too.”

“And did he know whose cat ’twas?”

“He said he did.  Mary-’Gusta was here ’long with me when he come.  I says:  ’Know whose cat ‘tis?’ and says he, ‘I know all right!’ I thought he acted kind of sheepish and funny.  I—­Here! where you goin’?”

The Captain was on his feet and his cap was in his hand.

“Goin’!” he snarled.  “I’m going to make another call on Abner.  And,” with his hand on the latch, “if you hear somebody bein’ murdered over in that direction you needn’t call the constable, neither.”

“But—­but, hold on, Cap’n Shad!  You ain’t finished your own supper yet and Zoeth’s waiting up to the store for you to come back so’s he can come down and get his.”

The reply was emphatic and, in its way, conclusive.

“To the blue brimstone with the supper!” roared Shadrach.  “It can wait and so can Zoeth.  If he can’t he can do the next best.”

He was absent for half an hour.  When he returned Mr. Hamilton was in the dining-room.  Shadrach entered, bearing the precious shotgun.  He stood it carefully in the corner.  There was a satisfied look in his eye.

“For goodness’ sake, Shadrach!” exclaimed Zoeth, “what have you been thinkin’ of?  There I was waitin’ and waitin’ and hankerin’ and hankerin’ and no you nor no supper.  I had to lock up the store finally.  ’Twas either that or starve.  I ain’t a fault-finder, generally speakin’, but I have to eat, same as other folks.”

His partner paid not the least attention.  His first remark was in the form of a question addressed to Mr. Chase.

“Look here, Isaiah,” he demanded, “did I understand you to say that Mary-’Gusta was with you when that sculpin come to borrow my gun?”

“Yup.  She was here.”

“And she knew that he was goin’ to shoot a cat with it?”