ld day, the chatter of this young man
in horn-rimmed glasses. Soon Fairchild was dressed and walking
hurriedly up the street with the voluble attorney. A half-hour more
and they were before the court. Fairchild, the lawyer and the
jail-worn Harry, his mustache fluttering in more directions than ever.

"Not guilty, Your Honor," said Randolph P. Farrell. "May I ask the
extent of the bond?"

The judge adjusted his glasses and studied the information which the
district attorney had laid before him.

"In view of the number of charges and the seriousness of each, I must
fix an aggregate bond of five thousand dollars, or twelve hundred fifty
dollars for each case."

"Thank you; we had come prepared for more. Mr. Fairchild, who is Mr.
Harkins' partner, is here to appear as bondsman. The deeds are in his
name alone, the partnership existing, as I understand it, upon their
word of honor between them. I refer, Your Honor, to the deeds of the
Blue Poppy mine. Would Your Honor care to examine them?"

His Honor would. His Honor did. For a long moment he studied them,
and Fairchild, in looking about the courtroom, saw the bailiff in
conversation with a tall, thin man, with squint eyes and a scar-marked
forehead. A moment later, the judge looked over his glasses.

"Bailiff!"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Have you any information regarding the value of the Blue Poppy mining
claims?"

"Sir, I have just been talking to Mr. Rodaine. He says they 're well
worth the value of the bond."

"How about that, Rodaine?" The judge peered down the court room.
Squint Rodaine scratched his hawklike nose with his thumb and nodded.

"They 'll do," was his answer, and the judge passed the papers to the
clerk of the court.

"Bond accepted. I 'll set this trial for--"

"If Your Honor please, I should like it at the very, very earliest
possible moment," Randolph P. Farrell had cut in. "This is working a
very great hardship upon an innocent man and--"

"Can't be done." The judge was scrawling on his docket. "Everything
's too crowded. Can't be reached before the November term. Set it for
November 11th."

"Very well, Your Honor." Then he turned with a wide grin to his
clients. "That's all until November."

Out they filed through the narrow aisle of the court room, Fairchild's
knee brushing the trouser leg of Squint Rodaine as they passed. At the
door, the attorney turned toward them, then put forth a hand.

"Drop in any day