terwards the town got to
know him, and if it did not precisely like him, it respected him, which
perhaps is better. And he gained at least a few warm-friends, among whom
I deem it an honor to be mentioned.

Farrar's contempt for consequences finally brought him an unsought-for
reputation. Admiration for him was born the day he pushed O'Meara out
of his office and down a flight of stairs because he had undertaken to
suggest that which should be done with the timber in Jackson County. By
this summary proceeding Farrar lost the support of a faction, O'Meara
being a power in the state and chairman of the forestry board besides.
But he got rid of interference from that day forth.

Oddly enough my friendship with Farrar was an indirect result of the
incident I have just related. A few mornings after, I was seated in my
office trying to concentrate my mind on page twenty of volume ten of
the Records when I was surprised by O'Meara himself, accompanied by
two gentlemen whom I remembered to have seen on various witness stands.
O'Meara was handsomely dressed, and his necktie made but a faint
pretence of concealing the gorgeous diamond in his shirt-front. But his
face wore an aggrieved air, and his left hand was neatly bound in black
and tucked into his coat. He sank comfortably into my wicker chair,
which creaked a protest, and produced two yellow-spotted cigars, chewing
the end of one with much apparent relish and pushing the other at me.
His two friends remained respectfully standing. I guessed at what was
coming, and braced myself by refusing the cigar,--not a great piece of
self-denial, by the way. But a case meant much to me then, and I did
seriously regret that O'Meara was not a possible client. At any rate, my
sympathy with Farrar in the late episode put him out of the question.

O'Meara cleared his throat and began gingerly to undo the handkerchief
on his hand. Then he brought his fist down on the table so that the ink
started from the stand and his cheeks shook with the effort.

"I'll make him pay for this!" he shouted, with an oath.

The other gentlemen nodded their approval, while I put the inkstand in a
place of safety.

"You're a pretty bright young man, Mr. Crocker," he went on, a look of
cunning coming into his little eyes, "but I guess you ain't had too many
cases to object to a big one."

"Did you come here to tell me that?" I asked.

He looked me over queerly, and evidently decided that I meant no
effro