When the man left, the major picked up the table, wiped the ink and sand from his face, and turning to me said, "Harry will have his little fun, you see." [Illustration: THE SHERIFF IS MAD] "He is a somewhat exuberant humorist," I replied.

"What was the object of the joke ?" "Well, he's going to sell his furniture at auction, and I promised to notice the fact in to-day's _Patriot_, but I forgot it, and he called to remind me of it." "Do all of your friends refresh your memory in that vivid manner?
If I'd been in your place, I'd have knocked him down." "No, you wouldn't," said Slott--"no, you wouldn't.

Harry is the sheriff, and he controls two thousand dollars' worth of official advertising.

I'd sooner he'd kick me from here to Borneo and back again than to take that advertising away from the _Patriot_.

What are a few bumps and a sore shin or two compared with all that fatness?
No, sir; he can have all the fun he wants out of me." The next visitor was less demonstrative.