"Isn't that strange?" his wife questioned.
"Naw, not strange when ye come to think it over. Them night prowlers wouldn't say a word; they're too dam scairt an' ashamed of themselves. An' as fer Ben, why he'll be as close as a clam."
"What happened to the daily paper, or the special news agent, I should say?" Douglas asked.
"Who's that?"
"Empty, of course."
"Oh, I fergot him," and Jake laughed. "I guess he overslept himself this mornin'. But he'll be on his job before night, though, never fear."
"Who is the Justice of the Peace in this place?" Douglas asked, as he pushed back his chair from the table.
"Justice of the Peace!" Jake vaguely repeated. "I don't know of any sich person in this parish."
"Yes, you do," his wife replied. "It's Squire Hawkins."
"The storekeeper?" Douglas queried.