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Updated: May 12, 2025
"She jest stuck up that derned little nose o' hern an' said: 'I am an American as long as I live." "Hooray!" shouted Alf Reesling, throwing Isaac Porter's new hat into the air. The crowd joined in the cheering. "Did I ever tell you how I knowed all along that it was a man who left Rosalie on the porch?" asked Anderson. "Why, you allus told me it was a woman," said Alf.
Its important," begged Alf. "How many times have I got to set down on you, Alf Reesling?" exploded Anderson. "Doggone, I'd like to know how a man's to solve mysteries if he's got to stand around half the time an' listen to fambly quarrels. Tell yer wife I'll " "This ain't no family quarrel. Besides, I ain't got no wife. It's about this here " "That'll do, now, Alf!
"Gee-mi-nently!" ejaculated Alf Reesling, catching sight of him late in the day. "Is that the president?" "It's Anderson Crow," explained Blootch Peabody. "Who's dead?" demanded Alf. "What's that got to do with it?" "Why, whose clothes is he wearin'?" pursued Alf, utterly overcome by the picture. "You'd better not let him hear you say that," cautioned Isaac Porter. "He got 'em in New York.
At noon they congregated at the schoolhouse. Alf Reesling was there. "Find it?" said he thickly, with a cunning leer. He had been drinking. Anderson was tempted to club him half to death, but instead he sent him home with Joe Perkins, refusing absolutely to hear what the town drunkard had to say.
"How's that?" was Anderson's rebuke. "I mean Mr. Crow," corrected Ed, with a nervous glance at Rosalie, who had been his companion for the evening. "Oh, I'm jest so-so," remarked Anderson, mollified. "How was the party?" "It wasn't a party, Daddy Crow," laughed Rosalie, seating herself in front of him on the porch rail. "It was an experience meeting. Alf Reesling has reformed again.
He put poor old Alf Reesling through the "sweat box" time and again, and worthless Tom Folly had many an unhappy night, wondering why the marshal was shadowing him so persistently. "Alf," demanded Anderson during one of the sessions, "where were you on the night of February 18, 1883? Don't hesitate. Speak up. Where were you? Aha, you cain't answer. That looks suspicious."
At least a dozen men, including Alf Reesling, heard this threat, and not one of them was to forget it soon. Anderson Crow noticed that Mrs. Holabird's bob-sled drove away without either Miss Banks or 'Rast Little in its capacious depths. Miss Banks announced that her three friends from the city and she would stay behind and close the schoolhouse, putting everything in order.
So successful had been his career as a law preserver, that of late years no evil-doer had had the courage to ply his nefarious games in the community. The town drunkard, Alf Reesling, seldom appeared on the streets in his habitual condition, because, as he dolefully remarked, he would deserve arrest and confinement for "criminal negligence," if for nothing else.
The fact that he was responsible for the arrest of various hog, horse, and chicken thieves from time to time, and for the continuous seizure of the two town drunkards, Tom Folly and Alf Reesling, kept his reputation untarnished, despite the numerous errors of commission and omission that crept in between.
He entered Lamson's store a moment later, singularly abashed and red in the face. "Doggone," he observed, seeing that an explanation was expected, "she might 'a' knowed I was only foolin'." A few minutes later he had Alf Reesling, the town sot, in a far corner of the store talking to him in a most peremptory fashion.
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