that the judge before sitting down to his duty was trying to dissuade the
stage driver from a step that was foolhardy. He guessed likewise that Lem
was not to be dissuaded. At length a silence followed, then the door
swung open, and three figures came down the illuminated path.

"Like to make you acquainted with Jedge Abner Parkinson, Mr. Wetherell,
and Jim Irving. Jim's the sheriff of Truro County, and I guess the jedge
don't need any recommendation as a lawyer from me. You won't mind stayin'
awhile with the jedge while Jim and I go down town with the team? You're
both literary folks."

Wetherell followed the judge into the house. He was sallow, tall and
spare and stooping, clean-shaven, with a hooked nose and bright eyes--the
face of an able and adroit man, and he wore the long black coat of the
politician-lawyer. The room was filled with books, and from these Judge
Parkinson immediately took his cue, probably through a fear that
Wetherell might begin on the subject of Lemuel's errand. However, it
instantly became plain that the judge was a true book lover, and despite
the fact that Lem's visit had disturbed him not a little, he soon grew
animated in a discussion on the merits of Sir Walter Scott, paced the
room, pitched his nasal voice higher and higher, covered his table with
volumes of that author to illustrate his meaning. Neither of them heard a
knock, and they both stared dumfounded at the man who filled the doorway.

It was Jethro Bass!

He entered the room with characteristic unconcern, as if he had just left
it on a trivial errand, and without a "How do you do?" or a "Good
evening," parted his coat tails, and sat down in the judge's armchair.
The judge dropped the volume of Scott on the desk, and as for Wetherell,