“It ain’t so bad,” said the judge after a time, but with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.

“Were you in shape to put anything better than water into it, Mr. Price?” The judge winced.  He always winced at that “Mr.”

“Well, I wouldn’t serve myself such a trick as that,” he said with decision.  “When I take liquor, it’s one thing; and when I want water, it’s another.”

“It is, indeed,” agreed Mahaffy.

“I drink as much clear water as is good for a man of my constitution,” said the judge combatively.  “My talents are wasted here,” he resumed, after a little pause.  “I’ve brought them the blessings of the law, but what does it signify!”

“Why did you ever come here?” Mahaffy spoke sharply.

“I might ask the same question of you, and in the same offensive tone,” said the judge.

“May I ask, not wishing to take a liberty, were you always the same old pauper you’ve been since I’ve known you?” inquired Mahaffy.  The judge maintained a stony silence.

The heat deepened in the heart of the afternoon.  The sun, a ball of fire, slipped back of the tree-tops.  Thick shadows stole across the stretch of dusty road.  Off in the distance there was the sound of cowbell.  Slowly these came nearer and nearer—­as the golden light slanted, sifting deeper and deeper into the woods.

They could see the crowd that came and went about the tavern, they caught the distant echo of its mirth.

“Common—­quite common,” said the judge with somber melancholy.

“I didn’t see anything common,” said Mahaffy sourly.  “The drinks weren’t common by a long sight.”

“I referred to the gathering in its social aspect, Solomon,” explained the judge; “the illiberal spirit that prevailed, which, I observe, did not escape you.”

“Skunks!” said Mahaffy.

“Not a man present had the public spirit to set ’em up,” lamented the judge.  “They drank in pairs, and I’d blistered my throat at their damn jail-raising!  What sort of a fizzle would it have been if I hadn’t been on hand to impart distinction to the occasion ?”

“I don’t begrudge ’em their liquor,” said Mahaffy with acid dignity.

“I do,” interrupted the judge.  “I hope it’s poison to ’em.

“It will be in the long run, if it’s any comfort to you to know it.”

“It’s no comfort, it’s not near quick enough,” said the judge relentlessly.  The sudden noisy clamor of many voices, highpitched and excited, floated out to them under the hot sky.  “I wonder—­” began the judge, and paused as he saw the crowd stream into the road before the tavern.  Then a cloud of dust enveloped it, a cloud of dust that came from the trampling of many pairs of feet, and that swept toward them, thick and impenetrable, and no higher than a tall man’s head in the lifeless air.  “I wonder if we missed anything” continued the judge, finishing what he had started to say.