the first to speak. "Judge Pike's lookin'
mighty well," he said, admiringly.

"Yes, he is," ventured Squire Buckalew, with deference; "mighty well."

"Yes, sir," echoed Peter Bradbury; "mighty well."

"He's a great man," wheezed Uncle Joe Davey; "a great man, Judge Martin
Pike; a great man!"

"I expect he has considerable on his mind," said the Colonel, who had
grown very red. "I noticed that he hardly seemed to see us."

"Yes, sir," Mr. Bradbury corroborated, with an attempt at an amused
laugh. "I noticed it, too. Of course a man with all his cares and
interests must git absent-minded now and then."

"Of course he does," said the colonel. "A man with all his
responsibilities--"

"Yes, that's so," came a chorus of the brethren, finding comfort and
reassurance as their voices and spirits began to recover from the
blight.

"There's a party at the Judge's to-night," said Mr. Bradbury--"kind of
a ball Mamie Pike's givin' for the young folks. Quite a doin's, I
hear."

"That's another thing that's ruining Canaan," Mr. Arp declared,
morosely. "These entertainments they have nowadays. Spend all the
money out of town--band from Indianapolis, chicken salad and darkey
waiters from Chicago! And what I want to know is, What's this town
goin' to do about the nigger question?"

"What about it?" asked Mr. Davey, belligerently.

"What about it?" Mr. Arp mocked, fiercely. "You better say, 'What about
it?'"

"Well, what?" maintained Mr. Davey, steadfastly.

"I'll bet there ain't any less than four thousand niggers in Canaan
to-day!" Mr. Arp hammered the floor with his stick. "Every last one of
'em criminals, and more comin' on every train."

"No such a thing," said Squire Buckalew, living up to his bounden duty.
"You look down the street. There's the ten-forty-five comin' in now.
I'll bet you a straight five-cent Peek-a-Boo cigar there ain't ary
nigger on the whole train, except the sleepin'-car porters."

"What kind of a way to argue is that?" demanded Mr. Arp, hotly.
"Bettin' ain't proof, is it? Besides, that's the through express from
the East. I meant trains from the South."

"You didn't say so," retorted Buckalew, triumphantly. "Stick to your
bet, Eskew, stick to your bet."

"My bet!" cried the outraged Eskew. "Who offered to bet?"

"You did," replied the Squire, with perfect assurance and sincerity.
The others supported him in the heartiest spirit of on-with-the-dance,
and war and joy were unconf