"Solomon, this is no time for me to hang back. I shall offer a reward
of five thousand dollars for this information." The judge's tone was
resolute. "Yes, sir, I shall make the figure commensurate with the
poignant grief I feel. He was my friend and client--" The moisture
gathered in his eyes.

"I should think that fifty dollars was nearer to being your figure,"
suggested the cautious Mahaffy.

"Inadequate and most insulting," said the judge.

"Well, where do you expect to get five thousand dollars?" cried Mahaffy
in a tone of absolute exasperation.

"Where would I get fifty?" inquired the judge mildly.

For once Mahaffy frankly owned himself beaten. A gleam of admiration lit
up his glance.

"Price, you have a streak of real greatness!" he declared.

Before the day was over it was generally believed that the judge was
wearing his gag with humility; interest in him declined, still the
public would have been grateful for a sight of that letter.

"Shucks, he's nothing but an old windbag!" said Mr. Pegloe to a group of
loungers gathered before his tavern in the early evening.

As he spoke, the judge's door opened and that gentleman appeared on his
threshold with a lighted candle in each hand. Glancing neither to the
right nor the left he passed out and up the street. Not a breath of wind
was blowing and the flames of the two candles burnt clear and strong,
lighting up his stately advance.

At the corner of the court-house green stood a row of locust hitching
posts. Two of these the judge decorated with his candles, next he
measured off fifteen paces, strides as liberal as he could make them
without sacrifice to his dignity; he scored a deep line in the dust
with the heel of his boot, toed it squarely, and drew himself up to his
fullest height. His right hand was seen to disappear under the frayed
tails of his coat, it reappeared and was raised with a movement quicker
than the eye could follow and a pistol shot rang out. One of the candles
was neatly snuffed.

The judge allowed himself a covert glance in the direction of the
loungers before the tavern. He was aware that a larger audience was
assembling. A slight smile relaxed the firm set of his lips. The
remaining candle sputtered feebly. The judge walked to the post and
cleared the wick from tallow with his thumb-nail. There was no haste in
any of his movements; his was the deliberation of conscious efficiency.
Resuming his former station back of the line he