Did the Judge talk of trotting me down to Egypt to scare me to death?  Why, I know this people better than he does.  I was raised just a little east of here.  I am a part of this people.  But the Judge was raised farther north, and perhaps he has some horrid idea of what this people might be induced to do.  But really I have talked about this matter perhaps longer than I ought, for it is no great thing; and yet the smallest are often the most difficult things to deal with.  The Judge has set about seriously trying to make the impression that when we meet at different places I am literally in his clutches—­that I am a poor, helpless, decrepit mouse, and that I can do nothing at all.  This is one of the ways he has taken to create that impression.  I don’t know any other way to meet it except this.  I don’t want to quarrel with him—­to call him a liar; but when I come square up to him I don’t know what else to call him if I must tell the truth out.  I want to be at peace, and reserve all my fighting powers for necessary occasions.  My time now is very nearly out, and I give up the trifle that is left to the Judge, to let him set my knees trembling again, if he can. set my knees trembling again, if he can.