rses'
feet sucking loose from the clay of the muddy road would not cheat him
out of a word.

Judge Little rode a low, yellow horse, commonly called a "buckskin" in
that country. He had come to town unprovided with a rubber coat, and his
long black garment of ordinary wear was damp from the blowing mists
which presaged the coming rain. In order to save the skirts of it, in
which the precious and mysterious pockets were, the judge had gathered
them up about his waist, as an old woman gathers her skirts on wash-day.
He sat in the saddle, holding them that way with one hand, while he
handled the reins with the other.

"All things are possible," returned the judge, his tight old mouth
screwed up after the words, as if more stood in the door and required
the utmost vigilance to prevent them popping forth.

Sol admitted that all things were indeed possible, although he had his
doubts about the probability of a great many he could name. But he was
wise enough to know that one must agree with a man if one desires to get
into his warm favor, and it was his purpose on that ride to milk Judge
Little of whatever information tickling his vanity, as an ant tickles an
aphis, would cause him to yield.

"Well, he's got a right smart property waitin' him when he comes," said
Sol, feeling important and comfortable just to talk of all that Isom
left.

"A considerable," agreed the judge.

"Say forty or fifty thousand worth, heh?"

"Nearer seventy or eighty, the way land's advancing in this county,"
corrected the judge.

Sol whistled his amazement. There was no word in his vocabulary as
eloquent as that.

"Well, all I got to say is that if it was me he left it to, it wouldn't
take no searchin' to find me," he said. "Is he married?"

"Very likely he is married," said the judge, with that portentous
repression and caution behind his words which some people are able to
use with such mysterious effect.

"Shades of catnip!" said Sol.

They rode on a little way in silence, Sol being quite exhausted on
account of his consuming surprise over what he believed himself to be
finding out. Presently he returned to his prying, and asked:

"Can Ollie come in for her dower rights in case the court lets Isom's
will stand?"

"That is a question," replied the judge, deliberating at his pause and
sucking in his cheeks, "which will have to be decided."

"Does he favor Isom any?" asked Sol.

"Who?" queried the judge.

"Isom's boy."

"Ther