The Mystery Megapack

“If I’ve got to stick around the dooryard all the time, we might as well pull stakes and go to a hotel. One reason for coming up here was to get a lot of exercise and fresh air! If you’re worried, and I don’t wonder, why not put on your old shoes and come along with me?”
    She shook her head, “No; I’ve got my housework to attend to. Beds to make, dinner to get started. Of course we’ll take walks all about the country together; but not right after breakfast. You said there’d be some guards posted nearby, didn’t you?”
    “So the sheriff promised. All right, then. I’ll wait till they show up before I go out of sight of the house.”
    He reluctantly set down his pail and clam hook, and pottered about the rough dooryard, pulling clumps of weeds, removing loose stones from the driveway, working up an appetite by splitting some kindling, although Jed Hooper had prepared a generous supply of fuel in advance of their coming.
    The day dragged monotonously. Weston missed his daily papers and the mail he always looked over before going to his office. He hated to admit it, but he even missed the noise and bustle of the city, the throbbing of industry and pleasure and all that went to make up the ordered confusion of a metropolis. Nobody passed the house; lacking a telephone, he could not call up to inquire what progress, if any, had been made toward capturing the murderous unknown.
    But directly after dinner, which they ate in an abstracted silence, big Jason Hodge appeared. He was leading a miserable-looking cur, whose pedigree would have puzzled a dog fancier. He hailed Weston with rough cordiality.
    “Brought ye a watchdog! He ain’t much to look at, but he sure does make a row if he hears anybody prowling about the house. Thought the missus would feel easier at night with him tied up outside. If you don’t hear Tige yellin’, you can rest easy there’s nobody sneaking up on ye in the dark. Keep him till we’ve caught the miscreant.”
    “Mighty good of you,” Weston thanked him, eyeing the dog dubiously. “Then I take it nothing has been found yet? No clues?”
    “There’s a posse out now beating up the woods and swamps. Soon as I learn anything I’ll come right over and tell you.”
    He looked about, selected a juniper bush whose scrubby boughs formed a shelter close to the ground, dragged the slinking mongrel to it and made fast his rope. “He don’t need no kennel this warm weather,” he explained. “Just feed him twice a day; any scraps left over from the table. Tige ain’t particular. And see that he has plenty of water. Soon as we catch our man, I’ll come over and fetch him home.”
    Weston thanked him as cordially as he was able, the dog circled his tree two or three times, winding himself up in his rope, then sniffed resignedly and laid himself down on the sunny side and went to sleep. Hodge strode with long-legged steps back toward his farm, and life at the old Jarvis place went on as before.
    The westering sun was sending the long, thin shadows of the cedars and spruces across the yard when two strange men heaved in sight from up the road. There was something grim and businesslike about their look, dressed as they were in rough shooting coats, with breeches tucked into their boots, and rifles under their arms. One of them turned in through the gate and approached Weston, who was feeding the guardian dog.
    “Seen any strangers about?” he asked.
    Weston shook his head. “You are all strangers to me; all but the sheriff, Hodge and Hooper. But nobody else has been near us; or at least, I have seen no one. You one of the guards Thomas spoke of?”
    “That’s me. Name of Larkin. I trap, winters, and do a little lobstering summers. Got a string of pots out in the cove now. Thomas told me to take over a mile or two of the road about here. Nights, that means. Don’t allow there’ll be any daylight assaults.”
    “Well, that’s certainly fine! And if you want anything, don’t hesitate to call on us. My wife will be glad to get up in the middle of the night and make you a cup of coffee, or rustle a lunch.”
    Larkin grinned. “I’ve tromped the wilderness too long to pamper myself that way, mister! My own wife sees to it I start out with a full stomach, and I’ve more’n once hit the trail for two days with no more than a handful of crackers and a drink of melted snow. But if you see or hear anything unusual, tip me off, will you? The selectmen have offered a reward for