hed to see
Ralph less than any one else. And yet when he came to suspect Small's
villainy, his whole nature revolted at it. But having broken with Ralph,
he thought it best to maintain an attitude of apparent hostility, that
he might act as a detective, and, perhaps, save his friend from the
mischief that threatened him. As soon as he heard of Ralph's arrest he
determined to make Walter Johnson tell his own secret in court, because
he knew that it would be best for Ralph that Walter should tell it.
Bud's telling at second-hand would not be conclusive. And he sincerely
desired to save Walter from prison. For Walter Johnson was the victim of
Dr. Small, or of Dr. Small and such novels as "The Pirate's Bride,"
"Claude Duval," "The Wild Rover of the West Indies," and the cheap
biographies of such men as Murrell. Small found him with his imagination
inflamed by the history of such heroes, and opened to him the path to
glory for which he longed.

The whole morning after Ralph's arrest Bud was working on Walter's
conscience and his fears. The poor fellow, unable to act for himself,
was torn asunder between the old ascendency of Small and the new
ascendency of Bud Means. Bud finally frightened him, by the fear of the
penitentiary, into going to the place of trial. But once inside the
door, and once in sight of Small, who was more to him than God, or,
rather, more to him than the devil--for the devil was Walter's God, or,
perhaps, I should say, Walter's God was a devil--once in sight of Small,
he refused to move an inch farther. And Bud, after all his perseverance,
was about to give up in sheer despair.

Fortunately, just at that moment Small's desire to relieve himself from
the taint of suspicion and to crush Ralph as completely as possible,
made him overshoot the mark by asking that Walter be called to the
stand, as we have before recounted. He knew that he had no tool so
supple as the cowardly Walter. In the very language of the request, he
had given Walter an intimation of what he wanted him to swear to. Walter
listened to Small's words as to his doom. He felt that he should die of
indecision. The perdition of a man of his stamp is to have to make up
his mind. Such men generally fall back on some one more positive, and
take all their resolutions ready-made. But here Walter must decide for
himself. For the constable was already calling his name; the court, the
spectators, and, most of all, Dr. Small, were waiting for him. He