said Joe. "They'd say I
was depending more on the lawyer than myself to come clear. Well,
colonel, you know that isn't the case."

That seemed to settle it, at least for the present. The colonel summoned
the sheriff, who took Joe to his cell. As the colonel and Mrs. Newbolt
passed out, Attorney Hammer appeared, presenting his order for the
money.

Mrs. Newbolt carried her savings with her. When she had paid Hammer she
had sixty cents left in her calloused palm.

"That's egg money," said she, tying it in the corner of her handkerchief.
"Oh, colonel, I forgot to ask the sheriff, but do you reckon they'll give
my Joe enough to eat?"

"I'll see to that," said Hammer officiously.

Hammer was a large, soft man in an alpaca-coat and white shirt without a
collar. His hair was very black and exceedingly greasy, and brushed down
upon his skull until it glittered, catching every ray of light in his
vicinity like a bucket of oil. He walked in long strides, with a sliding
motion of the feet, and carried his hands with the palms turned outward,
as if ready instantly to close upon any case, fee, or emolument which
came in passing contact with him, even though it might be on its way to
somebody else.

Mrs. Newbolt was not unfavorably impressed with him, for he seemed very
officious and altogether domineering in the presence of the sheriff, but
her opinion may have been influenced perhaps by Joe's determination to
have him whether or no. She thanked him for his promise of good offices
in Joe's behalf, and he took her arm and impeded her greatly in her
progress down the steps.

After Mrs. Newbolt had taken some refreshment in the colonel's house,
she prepared to return home.

"If I had a hoss, madam," said the colonel, "I'd hitch up and carry you
home. But I don't own a hoss, and I haven't owned one for nine years,
since the city grew up so around me I had to sell off my land to keep
the taxes from eatin' me up. If I did own a hoss now," he laughed, "I'd
have no place to keep him except under the bed, like they do the
houn'-dogs back in Kentucky."

She made light of the walk, for Joe's bright and sanguine carriage had
lightened her sorrow. She had hope to walk home with, and no wayfarer
ever traveled in more pleasant company.

The colonel and his daughter pressed her to make their home her
resting-place when in town, even inviting her to take up her abode there
until the trial. This generous hospitality she could not accept