glide far across the room.

"I'm half tempted to wring your neck off," exclaimed the man,
whose name was Lyon, now much excited, and seizing Green by the
throat, he strangled him until his face grew black. "Draw a knife
on me, ha! You murdering villain!" And he gripped him tighter.

Judge Lyman and the landlord now interfered, and rescued Green
from the hands of his fully aroused antagonist. For some time they
stood growling at each other, like two parted dogs struggling to
get free, in order to renew the conflict, but gradually cooled
off. In a little while Judge Lyman drew Green aside, and the two
men left the bar-room to other. In the door, as they were
retiring, the former slightly nodded to Willy Hammond, who soon
followed them, going into the sitting room, and from thence, as I
could perceive, upstairs to an apartment above.

"Not after much good," I heard Lyon mutter to himself. "If Judge
Hammond don't look a little closer after that boy of his, he'll be
sorry for it, that's all"

"Who is this Green?" I asked of Lyon, finding myself alone with
him in the bar-room soon after.

"A blackleg, I take it," was his unhesitating answer.

"Does Judge Lyman suspect his real character?"

"I don't know anything about that, but I wouldn't be afraid to bet
ten dollars, that if you could look in upon them now, you would