the State. For one thing, the weekly
newspapers did not mention it; and Mr. Paul Pardriff, when urged to give
an account of the proceedings in the Ripton Record, said it was a matter
of no importance, and spent the afternoon writing an editorial about the
domestic habits of the Aztecs. Mr. Pardriff, however, had thought the
matter of sufficient interest personally to attend the trial, and for the
journey he made use of a piece of green cardboard which he habitually
carried in his pocket. The editor of the Bradford Champion did not have
to use his yellow cardboard, yet his columns may be searched in vain for
the event.

Not that it was such a great event, one of hundreds of railroad accidents
that come to court. The son of Hilary Vane was the plaintiff's counsel;
and Mr. Meader, although he had not been able to work since his release
from the hospital, had been able to talk, and the interest taken in the
case by the average neglected citizen in Putnam proved that the weekly
newspaper is not the only disseminator of news.

The railroad's side of the case was presented by that genial and able
practitioner of Putnam County, Mr. Nathaniel Billings, who travelled from
his home in Williamstown by the exhibition of a red ticket. Austen Vane
had to pay his own way from Ripton, but as he handed back the mileage
book, the conductor leaned over and whispered something in his ear that
made him smile, and Austen thought he would rather have that little drop
of encouragement than a pass. And as he left the car at Bradford, two
grizzled and hard-handed individuals arose and wished him good luck.

He needed encouragement,--what young lawyer does not on his first
important case? And he did not like to think of the future if he lost
this. But in this matter he possessed a certain self-confidence which
arose from a just and righteous anger against the forces opposing him and
a knowledge of their tactics. To his mind his client was not Zeb Meader
alone, but the host of victims who had been maimed and bought off because
it was cheaper than to give the public a proper protection.

The court room was crowded. Mr. Zeb Meader, pale but determined, was
surrounded by a knot of Mercer neighbours, many of whom were witnesses.
The agate eyes of Mr. Brush Bascom flashed from the audience, and Mr. Nat
Billings bustled forward to shake Austen's hand. Nat was one of those who
called not infrequently upon the Honourable Hilary in Ripton, and had sat
o