Jeff Peters was always eloquent when the ethics of his profession was
under discussion.

"The only times," said he, "that me and Andy Tucker ever had any
hiatuses in our cordial intents was when we differed on the moral
aspects of grafting. Andy had his standards and I had mine. I didn't
approve of all of Andy's schemes for levying contributions from the
public, and he thought I allowed my conscience to interfere too often
for the financial good of the firm. We had high arguments sometimes.
One word led on to another till he said I reminded him of Rockefeller.

"'I don't know how you mean that, Andy,' says I, 'but we have been
friends too long for me to take offense at a taunt that you will
regret when you cool off. I have yet,' says I, 'to shake hands with
a subpoena server.'

"One summer me and Andy decided to rest up a spell in a fine little
town in the mountains of Kentucky called Grassdale. We was supposed to
be horse drovers, and good decent citizens besides, taking a summer
vacation. The Grassdale people liked us, and me and Andy declared a
cessation of hostilities, never so much as floating the fly leaf of a
rubber concession prospectus or flashing a Brazilian diamond while we
was there.

"One day the leading hardware merchant of Grassdale drops around to
the hotel where me and Andy stopped, and smokes with us, sociable, on
the side porch. We knew him pretty well from pitching quoits in the
afternoons in the court house yard. He was a loud, red man, breathing