eat hard cash, as the feller said."

Westerfelt stared at him in surprise.

"Oh," he said, "I never thought of that. I--"

"Well, there ain't no harm in looking at the thing from all sides,"
broke in the lawyer, as deliberately as his professional eagerness
would permit. "A good price could be made out of the ring-leaders
anyway. Old Jim Hunter's got two hundred acres o' bottom land as black
as that back yard out thar, an' it's well stocked, an' I know all the
rest o' the gang an' their ability to plank up. Maybe it wouldn't even
get as far as court. Them fellers would pay up rather than be
published all over creation as--"

Westerfelt drew back, smiling. He did not really dislike Bates, and he
attributed his present proposition to the desire to advance in his
profession, but he was far from falling into the present proposal.

"I haven't the slightest intention of prosecuting, Mr. Bates," he
declared, firmly. "In fact, nothing could persuade me to take a single
step in that direction."

The face of the lawyer fell.

"Oh, that's the way you feel. Well," scratching his chin, "I don't
know as it makes much difference one way or the other, but I hope, Mr.
Westerfelt, that you won't mention what I said. These fellers are the
very devil about boycottin' people."

"It shall go no further," answered Westerfelt, and together they walked
to the front. A few minutes after Bates had gone across the street to
his office, old Hunter slouched into the stable and stood before
Westerfelt. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in Bates's direction
and grinned uneasily. Then he spat, and delivered himself of this:

"I'll bet I kin make a powerful good guess at what that feller wanted
to see you about."

Westerfelt smiled good-naturedly. He felt irresistibly drawn towards
the old man.

"Do you think you could, Mr. Hunter?"

"I'd bet a ten-acre lot agin a ginger-cake. An' I'll bet some'n else;
I'll bet ten dollars 'gin a nickel that Cap. Westerfelt's boy ain't
a-gwine to harbor no ill-will agin one o' his daddy's old friends that
wus actin' the damn fool 'fore he knowed who he wus monkeyin' with."

"You'd win on that bet, Mr. Hunter," and Westerfelt gave the old man
his hand.

Hunter's shook as with palsy as he grasped and held it. Tears rose in
his eyes. "Lord, Lord A'mighty!" he said, "when I reecolect that the
young chap 'at stood up thar so spunky all by hisse'f last night, in
that moonlight an' sassed