people were not long lived, and Harvey never had a robust
constitution," said the minister mildly. He would have liked to say more.
He had been the boy's Sunday-school teacher, and had been fond of him;
but he felt that he was not in a position to speak. His own sons had
turned out badly, and it was not a year since one of them had made his
last trip home in the express car, shot in a gambling-house in the
Black Hills.

"Nevertheless, there is no disputin' that Harve frequently looked upon
the wine when it was red, also variegated, and it shore made an oncommon
fool of him," moralized the cattleman.

Just then the door leading into the parlour rattled loudly and every one
started involuntarily, looking relieved when only Jim Laird came out.
The Grand Army man ducked his head when he saw the spark in his blue,
blood-shot eye. They were all afraid of Jim; he was a drunkard, but he
could twist the law to suit his client's needs as no other man in all
western Kansas could do, and there were many who tried. The lawyer closed
the door behind him, leaned back against it and folded his arms, cocking
his head a little to one side. When he assumed this attitude in the
court-room, ears were always pricked up, as it usually foretold a flood
of withering sarcasm.

"I've been with you gentlemen before," he began in a dry, even tone,
"when you've sat by the coffins of boys born and raised in this town;
and, if I remember rightly, you were never any too well satisfied when
you checked them up. What's the matter, anyhow? Why is it that reputable
young men are as scarce as millionaires in Sand City? It might almost
seem to a stranger that there was some way something the matter with your
progressive town. Why did Ruben Sayer, the brightest young lawyer you
ever turned out, after he had come home from the university as straight
as a die, take to drinking and forge a check and shoot himself? Why did
Bill Merrit's son die of the shakes in a saloon in Omaha? Why was Mr.
Thomas's son, here, shot in a gambling-house? Why did young Adams burn
his mill to beat the insurance companies and go to the pen?"

The lawyer paused and unfolded his arms, laying one clenched fist quietly
on the table. "I'll tell you why. Because you drummed nothing but money
and knavery into their ears from the time they wore knickerbockers;
because you carped away at them as you've been carping here tonight,
holding our friends Phelps and Elder up to them for their mod