against the Union?"

"Judge," said the Captain, instantly, "I'm not the only one in this town
who will have to decide whether my sympathies are wrong. My sympathies
are with the South."

"It's not a question of sympathy, Captain," answered the Judge, dryly.
"Abraham Lincoln himself was born in Kentucky."

They had not heard a step without.

"Gentlemen, mark my words. If Abraham Lincoln is elected, the South
leaves this Union."

The Judge started, and looked up. The speaker was Colonel Carvel himself.

"Then, sir," Mr. Whipple cried hotly, "then you will be chastised and
brought back. For at last we have chosen a man who is strong enough,
--who does not fear your fire-eaters,--whose electors depend on Northern
votes alone."

Stephen rose apprehensively, So did Captain Lige The Colonel had taken a
step forward, and a fire was quick to kindle in his gray eyes. It was as
quick to die. Judge Whipple, deathly pale, staggered and fell into
Stephen' arms. But it was the Colonel who laid him on the horsehair sofa.

"Silas!" he said, "Silas!"

Nor could the two who listened sound the depth of the pathos the Colonel
put into those two words.

But the Judge had not fainted. And the brusqueness in his weakened voice
was even more pathetic-- "Tut, tut," said he. "A little heat, and no
breakfast."

The Colonel already had a bottle of the famous Bourbon day his hand, and
Captain Lige brought a glass of muddy iced water. Mr. Carvel made an
injudicious mixture of the two, and held it to the lips of his friend. He
was pushed away.

"Come, Silas," he said.

"No!" cried the Judge, and with this effort he slipped back again. Those
who stood there thought that the stamp of death was already on Judge
Whipple's face.

But the lips were firmly closed, bidding defiance, as ever, to the world.
The Colonel, stroking his goatee, regarded him curiously.

"Silas," he said slowly, "if you won't drink it for me, perhaps you will
drink it--for--Abraham--Lincoln."

The two who watched that scene have never forgotten it. Outside, in the
great cool store, the rattle of the trucks was heard, and Mr. Hopper
giving commands. Within was silence. The straight figure of the Colonel
towered above the sofa while he waited. A full minute passed. Once Judge
Whipple's bony hand opened and shut, and once his features worked. Then,
without warning, he sat up.

"Colonel," said he, "I reckon I wouldn't be much use to Abe if I took
that. But if you'