"One of you must have got it."
"It's a lie!"
"Call me a liar?" asked the sheriff, of his deputies.
"If you say we have got the writs, yes."
The sheriff raised his musket club fashion, and would have brained the speaker had not Isaac Gerston, one of the posse, caught his arm.
"Father Abraham!" he ejaculated, "are you mad? What if the wallet is in the grass? Have you searched everywhere?"
The sheriff lowered his weapon, and all went on their hands and knees and felt among the grass, searching very diligently, but no wallet could be found.
A council of war was held. If the writs could not be found the sheriff would be punished. What excuse could be given?
"What shall we do?"
"Let us go to this man Allen's house, and surprise him. He will not resist, and we can take him prisoner, and in the meantime another writ can be obtained."