d the dying man. A moment of
silence succeeded. Mahaffy's eyes closed, then the heavy lids slid back.
He looked up at the judge while the harsh lines of his sour old face
softened wonderfully. "Kiss me, Price," he whispered, and as the judge
bent to touch him on the brow, the softened lines fixed themselves in
death, while on his lips lingered a smile that was neither bitter nor
sneering.

CHAPTER XXXV. A CRISIS AT THE COURT-HOUSE

In that bare upper room they had shared, the judge, crushed and broken,
watched beside the bed on which the dead man lay; unconscious of the
flight of time he sat with his head bowed in his hands, having scarcely
altered his position since he begged those who carried Mahaffy up the
narrow stairs to leave him alone with his friend.

He was living over the past. He recalled his first meeting with Mahaffy
in the stuffy cabin of the small river packet from which they had later
gone ashore at Pleasantville; he thanked God that it had been given
him to see beneath Solomon's forbidding exterior and into that starved
heart! He reviewed each phase of the almost insensible growth of their
intimacy; he remembered Mahaffy's fine true loyalty at the time of his
arrest--he thought of Damon and Pythias--Mahaffy had reached the heights
of a sublime devotion; he could only feel enobled that he had inspired
it.

At last the dusk of twilight invaded the room. He lighted the candles
on the chimneypiece, then he resumed his seat and his former attitude.
Suddenly he became aware of a small hand that was resting on his arm and
glanced up; Hannibal had stolen quietly into the room. The boy pointed
to the still figure on the bed.

"Judge, what makes Mr. Mahaffy lie so quiet--is he dead?" he asked in a
whisper.

"Yes, dear lad," began the judge in a shaking voice as he drew Hannibal
toward him, "your friend and mine is dead--we have lost him." He lifted
the boy into his lap, and Hannibal pressed a tear-stained face against
the judge's shoulder. "How did you get here?" the judge questioned
gently.

"Uncle Bob fetched me," said Hannibal. "He's down-stairs, but he didn't
tell me Mr. Mahaffy was dead-"

"We have sustained a great loss, Hannibal, and we must never forget the
moral grandeur of the man. Some day, when you are older, and I can bring
myself to speak of it, I will tell you of his last moments." The judge's
voice broke, a thick sob rose chokingly in his throat. "Poor Solomon! A
man of such ten