Harry Squires suddenly put his hand over his mouth and turned to Marshal Crow. The Marshal arose.
"This ain't no affair of yours, Liff Loop. Nobody invited you to be present. You go on home, now. Go on! You've contributed all that's necessary to this here meetin'. Next thing we know, you'll be contributin' your mother-in-law too. Get out, I say. Open the door, Jake, an' head him that way. Easy, now! I didn't say to stand him on his head. He might accidently squash that new fewdory hat he's wearin'."
After Mr. Loop's unceremonious departure, the Marshal resumed his seat and fell to twisting his sparse whiskers.
"What is your opinion, Mr. Crow," inquired Harry Squires, "as to the amount we would have to pay a good detective to tackle the job?"
Mr. Crow ran a calculating eye over the crowd. He did not at once reply. Finally he spoke.
"Between a hundred and five an' a hundred an' seven dollars," he said. "It might run as high as hundred and ten," he added, as two or three belated citizens entered the hall.
"Can we get a goot man for dot amoundt?" inquired Henry Wimpelmeyer, the tanyard man.
"Well, we can get one that c'n tell whether it's daylight or dark without lightin' a lantern to find out," said Mr. Crow in a slightly bellicose tone.
"I ain't so sure aboudt dot," said Henry, eying the Marshal skeptically. He had had it in for Marshal Crow ever since that official compelled him to hang an American flag in front of his tanyard.
Luckily Uncle Dad Simms, who had not heard a word of the foregoing remarks, piped up.