been called a liar, not by no living man--" and he twirled an end
of his drooping flaxen mustache between thumb and forefinger. "Facts is
facts," he finished.

"Everybody knows you found old Mr. McBride--" said Custer rather
eagerly.

"I'm expecting to hear it hinted I didn't!" replied Mr. Shrimplin
darkly. "I'm expecting to hear it stated by some natural-born liar that
I set in my cart and bellered for help!"

"But you didn't, and nobody says you did," insisted the boy.

"Well, I'm glad you don't have to take my word for it," said Shrimplin.
"I'm glad them facts is a matter of official record up to the
court-house. I don't know, though, that I care so blame much about being
held up as a public character; if I hadn't a reputation out of the
common, maybe I wouldn't be misjudged when I stand back to give some one
else a chance!"

He laughed with large scorn of the world's littleness.

The epic of William Shrimplin was taking to itself its old high noble
strain, and Custer was aware of a sneaking sense of shame that he could
have doubted even for an instant; then swiftly the happy consciousness
stole in on him that he had been weighed in the balance by this
specialist in human courage and had not been found wanting. And his
heart waxed large in his thin little body.

They were jogging along Mount Hope's deserted streets when Marshall
Langham roused from his stupor.

"Where are you taking me?" he demanded of the boy.

"Home, Mr. Langham--we're almost there now," responded Custer.

"Take me to my father's," said Marshall with an effort, and his head
fell over on Custer's small shoulder.

He did not speak again until Bill came to a stand before Judge Langham's
gate.

"Are we there?" he asked of the boy.

"Yes--"

"Don't you think we'd better get help?" said Shrimplin.

And Marshall seeming to acquiesce in this, the little lamplighter
entered the yard and going to the front door rang the bell. A minute
passed, and growing impatient he rang again. There succeeded another
interval of waiting in which Shrimplin cocked his head on one side to
catch the sound of possible footsteps in the hall.

"He says try the knob," called Custer from the cart.

Doing this, Shrimplin felt the door yield, it was not locked; at the
same instant he made this discovery, however, he heard a footfall in the
street and so, hurried back to the gate. The new-comer halted when he
was abreast of wild Bill, and stared first at the car