d in a friendly warning. "He means you, too," he
whispered.

The gavel fell heavily. The court rose up and the court's eyes
narrowed.

"This bickering has got to stop! It is disgraceful. I don't want to
see any more of it. Mr. Wade, for that last remark of yours you ought
to pay a heavy fine, and you know it very well. This prisoner is being
tried for murder. That does not make him a murderer. Your words were
unmanly, sir."

"May it please the court," said Wade, white faced and trembling with
rage, "I acknowledge myself entirely wrong, and I beg the court's
pardon. I own that I was exasperated. The prisoner insulted me
grossly."

"You insulted him first. You have been doing it right along. You
lawyers are always browbeating witnesses and prisoners. You get 'em
where they can't talk back and then you pelt 'em with slurs and hints
and sneers and insults. You take a mean advantage of your privileged
position to be overbearing and arrogant. I've watched you at it. I
don't think it is very sporting to say in the court room what you
wouldn't dare say on the street. But when someone takes a whack at
you--wow! that's different! Then you want the court to protect you."
He paused to consider.

The justice of the peace--Judge Hinkle, Andy Hinkle--was a slim,
wizened man, brown handed, brown faced, lean and wrinkled, with
thin gray hair and a thin gray beard and faded blue eyes, which could
blaze blue fire on occasion. Such fire, though a mild one, now died
away from those old eyes, and into them crept a slightly puzzled
expression. He looked hard at Mr. Wade and he looked hard at Mr.
Dines. Then he proceeded.

"Mr. Wade, this court--Oh, let's cut out the court--that makes me
tired! 'This court fines you twenty-five dollars for contempt of
court.' How would that sound?"

Wade managed a smile, and bowed, not ungracefully. "It would sound
unpleasant--perhaps a little severe, sir."

The court twinkled. "I was only meaning how silly it seemed to a plain
man for him to have to refer to himself as the court. I'm not going to
fine you, Mr. Wade--not this time. I could, of course, but I won't. It
would be unfair to lecture you first and then fine you. Besides, there
is something else. You have had great provocation and I feel compelled
to take that into consideration. Your apology is accepted. I don't
know who began it--but if you have been insulting the prisoner it is
no less true that the prisoner has been aggravating you. I