ould defend only
those who were wrongfully accused. To take this case would be to bring
his wagon down from the star. Then suddenly he found himself disposed
to arraign himself for selfishly clinging to his ideals.

He went back into the house, where M'ri was still tearfully arguing
and protesting. He came up to Barnabas.

"I will clear Jud, if you will trust the case to me, Uncle Barnabas."

Barnabas grasped his hand.

"Bless you, Dave, my boy," he said. "I wanted you to, but Jud has
been--wal, I didn't like to ask you."

"David," said M'ri, when they were alone, "Martin said you wouldn't
take a case where you were convinced of the guilt of the client."

"I shall take this case," was David's quiet reply.

"Really, David, Martin thinks it will be best for Jud--"

"I don't want to do what is best for Jud, Aunt M'ri, I want to do what
is best for Uncle Barnabas. It's the first chance I ever had to do
anything for him."

When Judge Thorne found that David was determined to defend Jud, he
gave him some advice:

"You must get counter evidence, if you can, David. If you have any
lingering idea that you can appeal to the jury on account of Barnabas
being Jud's father, root out that idea. There's no chance of rural
juries tempering justice with mercy. With them it's an eye for an eye,
every time."

David had an infinitely harder task in clearing Jud than he had had in
defending Miggs. The evidence was clear, the witnesses sure and wary,
and the prisoner universally detested save by his evil-minded
companions, but these obstacles brought out in full force all David's
indomitable will and alertness. He tipped up and entrapped the
prosecution's witnesses with lightning dexterity. One of them chanced
to be a man whom David had befriended, and he aided him by replying
shrewdly in Jud's favor.

But it was Jud himself who proved to be David's trump card. He was
keen, crafty, and quick to seize his lawyer's most subtle suggestions.
His memory was accurate, and with David's steering he avoided all
traps set for him on cross examination. When David stood before the
jury for the most stubborn fight he had yet made, his mother's last
piece of advice--all she had to bequeath to him--permeated every
effort. He put into his argument all the compelling force within him.
There were no ornate sentences this time, but he concentrated his
powers of logic and persuasiveness upon his task. The jury was out two
hours, during which tim