document with which he could return the blow with double force. With that folded piece of paper he could impeach and hurl this incompetent blustering jayhawker from the bench. And he'd do it, too, if provoked. Craig deliberately moved a step closer, his fists slowly closed and the fold of his arms tightened. He looked at the Judge with a quiet smile in dead silence.

The white crowd in the court room broke into cheers. Before the Sheriff could speak, the Judge rapped furiously for order. A wave of excitement swept the scene.

Nathan Klein, the Jew merchant of Main Street, a client of Craig, rose from his seat, and gestured excitedly to Sammy, his little lame boy who haunted the court room with a passion for romance and excitement. He had slipped into the inclosure of the bar railing and was edging closer to the scene. He carried in his arms a dog. Craig was his favorite lawyer. Sammy smiled his admiration and the dog wagged his tail in approval.

Klein saw the boy's position of danger. He was almost in line between the two men glaring at each other in mortal hate. He tried again to attract his attention. Sammy was too intent in admiration for his hero to notice signs. He squatted against the railing immediately beneath the Judge's desk and fixed his enraptured gaze on Craig.

When his father failed to get his attention and started to sit down, Berry Lowery, a county tough, threw him roughly aside and took his seat. The Jew ignored the crude insult, glanced at the half-drunken intruder and moved into the crowd near the door. In a quick glance he fixed forever in memory the face of a man destined to play a leading rôle in the crisis of his life. He moved away with a feeling of vague foreboding. The beastly lines of Lowery's face haunted him. He glanced over his shoulder and watched him chewing a cud of tobacco and spitting

carelessly on the floor. The tough drew a flask of corn whisky from his pocket and, indifferent to the occasion or his surroundings, drank half of it. With a look of disgust Klein turned back toward Craig.

The Judge took up his pen and began to write the order of disbarment. He wrote in quick nervous irritation. Again the group of negroes stirred in approval. There were winks, grins and nods and subdued expressions of joy. Old Julius led the chorus of praise. In low tones of half-religious ecstasy he breathed:

"Glory ter God, dar's one Jedge dat ain't afraid!" "Yes, Lawd!"

"Hallelujah!" ."Amen!"

The responses were low but the negro ears had heard. There was one sharp dissenting voice. It came from Craig's faithful man Henry, who had followed his fortunes with or without pay since the war. If the young lawyer had money, Henry got his share. When he had none, Henry worked with equally lazy indifference. His cheerful laziness was uniform in good or bad fortune.

Henry glared at Julius. He hated this black, unctuous hypocrite for more than one reason. He meant to get even with him one fine day when the good Lord gave him a chance.

"De Jedge ain't done nuttin', yet!" Henry sneered. He spoke so loudly the Sheriff bawled:

"Order!"

Julius grinned and Henry subsided.

Hawkins finished his writing amid an ominous silence. The older men at the bar glanced at each other and shook their heads in grave misgiving. Wilkes was jubilant. His smile was steady. It wouldn't come off. The Judge again

caught sight of him and, to the amazement of the lawyers, beckoned.

He sprang to his feet and answered promptly. The Judge leaned across his desk and whispered:

"I've signed the order of disbarment. What do you say?"

Wilkes hurried to reply in quick low tones:

"Serve it on him. He can't lift his little finger!"

Hawkins settled back in his chair and fixed Craig with a look of stern judicial poise. His chin was lowered until his long whiskers bent against his collar as he spoke:

"For the last time, sir, I give you a chance to save yourself by an abject apology. Will you submit ?"

Craig stood immovable, his dark eyes staring at Hawkins in steady menace.

The crowd caught the tension and a pin fall would have registered.

Sammy leaned closer. The dog in his arms got the strain, and suddenly barked.

The tension broke in a roar of laughter. Sammy clapped his hand on the dog's mouth too late. The Judge glared over his desk and shouted to the Sheriff:

"Take that boy and that dog out of here!"

The Sheriff apologized to the Court, seized Sammy by the arm and led him limping through the grinning crowd. His father caught him at the door and shook him soundly for his folly. The Jew had never liked dogs. But Sammy had become an orthodox southern boy at an early age. On account of his lameness his father had never been able to deny the little wistful face a desire of his heart and the dog had become the boy's inseparable companion.

The interruption had given the Judge a moment to collect his thoughts and weigh his act with deliberate

judgment. He called the Sheriff, and handed him the order of disbarment.

"Serve the order on John Craig and see that this gentleman does not enter the bar rail again as an attorney." The Sheriff took the order, delivered it to Craig and whispered:

"Sorry, sir. Let me know if I can help youCraig nodded.

"Thank you, Sheriff.”

He took the order, tore it slowly into pieces and dropped the bits on the floor. Wilkes was still standing near the Judge's desk in a broad grin, looking at his rival.

Craig lifted his long arm and pointed with a deliberate insulting gesture at Hawkins.

"You have disbarred me from the practice of law, sir, to elect your favorite the next District Attorney—"

A cheer swept the crowd. The suddenness of it surprised and alarmed the Judge. He glanced hurriedly over the room and saw the hostile eyes pressed on him. How far Craig's partisans might go, he could only guess. He was so surprised by the savage volume of the cheers that had greeted Craig's accusation, he forgot to order the Sheriff to preserve silence. The Sheriff was so surprised he forgot to yell "Order!"

Wilkes was the first to find his voice.

"I protest against the insult, your Honor. I hope the court will give this man an additional sentence of thirty days in jail-"

The Judge smiled, lifted his hand to Wilkes for silence and said slowly:

"The court is adjourned until to-morrow morning at ten o'clock.”

The Sheriff ordered the crowd to rise.

The Judge

passed out behind the railing to the door, followed by Wilkes, and the crowd surged toward Craig.

They wrung his hand and told their sympathy and indignation. He received it with a curious reserve. His mind was not on the scene. He was brought back at last to the consciousness of what was happening by Henry's loud voice booming over the crowd. The negro couldn't push his way rudely through the throng that circled his master, but he waved his black hand over their heads.

"Dat's de way, Marse John! You sho stood your groun lak a Craig always stan's. I wuz proud of you, sah."

The young lawyer smiled for the first time. The old saying that no man is a hero to his valet had not held good. He nodded gravely and said:

"Thank you, Henry. I appreciate your approval." Sammy pressed close, pushing his way through in spite of his lameness. He held up the dog.

"Shake hands with Mr. Craig !"

The dog extended his paw, his eyes winked and his tail wagged. Craig took the extended paw and stroked it. Sammy explained:

"He was cussin' the Judge for you, sir."

The dog barked his approval and Craig stroked his paw again and said:

"I understand, sir, we've both been honored by the Court to-day. I appreciate your sympathy."

Klein pressed close and seized Craig's hand.

"A shame, my good friend-a shame! You have in me a better friend than you know. You will remember this?" Craig nodded and pressed the extended hand as he passed out through the crowd. The words had left a peculiar impression on his mind. There was something beneath them. He felt it with a distinct surprise. The

Jew had always been his client. In fact, he was his first