er counsel for him," said Judge Henderson, "but if he will
take my own advice, he will drop the case now and at this point."

"What does the plaintiff say?" Blackman bent an inquiring gaze on the
battered visage of Ephraim Adamson. The latter lifted up a swollen
eyelid with thumb and finger, and turned a still confused gaze upon
court and counsel. His reply, crestfallen though it was, brought a
titter from the audience.

"I guess I'm satisfied," said he.

Blackman looked from one to the other, and then back to the faces of the
disappointed audience of the citizens of Spring Valley.

"Order in the court!" exclaimed Blackman, J. P., fiercely. "This court
is adjourned!" He spoke with a certain disgust, as of one aware of
participation in a fiasco.

With a rush and a surge the room began to empty. Judge Henderson
departed, well in advance, looking straight ahead, and acknowledging
none of the greetings which met him. He evidently was above such work,
even disgusted with the whole affair. Hod Brooks remained, his curious
glance still riveted on Don Lane.

Don stood hesitating before the table of justice. He had not known
before that his burly counsel had any acquaintance with his mother, but
he saw plainly the glance of recognition which passed between them.

Aurora Lane and Miss Julia waited until the stair was clear, but as Don
would have followed them, Hod Brooks beckoned to him, in his blue eyes a
sort of puzzled wonderment, a surprise that seemed half conviction.

"I thank you, Mr. Brooks," said Don Lane, turning to his counsel. He
wondered curiously why the big man should seem so red of face and so
perturbed. "What can I do for you--I have not much----"

The great face of Hod Brooks flushed yet more. "Don't talk to me about
pay, my boy," said he--"don't talk to me about anything. Wait till
things straighten out a little. The prosecution's dropped. That's
all--or that's enough. Now, listen. I knew you when I saw you come in
here! They told me you were dead, but I knew you when first my eyes fell
on you. You're like your mother. I've known your mother for years--I
think a lot of her and her friend Miss Julia, don't you see? It's
strange news to me you are alive, but you are, and that's enough. I must
be going now. I'll see you and your mother both. But before I do, just
come with me, for I've a little more counsel to give you--it won't cost
you anything, and I think it will do some good."

He beckoned Don to j