“One cup of hot chocolate coming up.” The look on Kentucky’s face was a study. Was he amused? Was he afraid, perhaps, that he might be tempted to throw the drink in the stranger’s face? Who could say? Enough that he did his duty as host faultlessly.
There came the stamping of feet and the Chief of Police arrived. “What’s up?” he demanded. The stranger stared at him, gulped down the last of his cocoa, then swallowed hard.
“This boy says he saw a giant that broke loose from a circus.” Was there a twinkle in the coach’s eye?
“Dangerous,” said the Chief.
“He—he shook me,” the boy stammered.
“Bad! Very bad!” said the Chief. “Then what?”
“He broke in the door to this place,” said the coach.
“The giant?” the Chief appeared to stare.
“This boy,” the coach replied.
“Oh, this boy! So!” The Chief’s face was sober. “Breakin’-an’-enterin’. That’s it. Thirty days at least, I’d say.”