And the stranger showed the straw which he had picked up:
"There, here's the straw for the customer's long drink. You will see, there's more of it than usual: in fact, it is made of three straws stuck into one another. That was the first thing I noticed: those three straws fastened together. The proof is conclusive."
"But, hang it all, the proof of what?" cried Farmer Goussot, irritably.
The stranger took a shotgun from the rack.
"Is it loaded?" he asked.
"Yes," said the youngest of the brothers. "I use it to kill the sparrows with, for fun. It's small shot."
"Capital! A peppering where it won't hurt him will do the trick."
His face suddenly assumed a masterful look. He gripped the farmer by the arm and rapped out, in an imperious tone:
"Listen to me, Farmer Goussot. I'm not here to do policeman's work; and I won't have the poor beggar locked up at any price. Four weeks of starvation and fright is good enough for anybody. So you've got to swear to me, you and your sons, that you'll let him off without hurting him."
"He must hand over the money!"