"It's just his way," some one usually said, and the rest sat in silence. They didn't enjoy it, but as Radbourn was not running for any office and was known to be a powerful thinker, they thought it best not to antagonize him. "I wonder if he intends the law?" asked Judge Brown. "I see what the Judge is driving at," Radbourn said quickly, "he thinks he can make a Democrat of him." The group laughed. Democrats were in a hopeless minority, but the judge and Colonel Peavey never lost their proselyting zeal. "The Judge is always on hand like a sore thumb," said Amos. "The Judge'll be on the right side of the tariff one of these fine days, and have the laugh on the lot of yeh." "What y' idee about that, Rad?" "Good heavens! You don't expect to have protection always, do yeh?" was his only reply. A day or two later he said to Bradley-- "Talcott, Brown wants to see you. He wants to make you a 'lawyer's hack'! Now I'd say to most men, don't do it, but if he offers to give you a place take it. It won't be worse than sawing wood thirty hours a week." Following Radbourn's direction he passed up a narrow, incredibly grimy stairway, and knocked at a door at the end of a hall, whose only light came through the letter-slit in the door. "Come in!" yelled a snarling voice. Bradley entered timidly, for the voice was not at all cordial. The Judge, in his own den, was a different man from the Judge at Robie's grocery, and this day he was in bad humor. He sat with his heels on a revolving book-case, a law-book spread out on his legs, a long pipe in his hand. If he uttered any words of greeting they were lost in the crescendo growl of a fat bull-dog lying in supple shining length at his feet. "Down with yeh!" he snarled at the dog, who ceased his growling, but ran lightly and with ferocious suggestiveness toward Bradley and clung sniffing about his heels. "Si' down!" the Judge said, indicating a chair with his pipe, which he held by the bowl. He made no other motion. Bradley sat down. This greeting drove him back into his usual stubborn silence. He waited for developments, his eyes on the dog. "Well, young man, what can I do for you?" asked the lawyer after a long silence, during which he laid down one book, and read a page in another. "Nothin', I guess." "Well, what the devil did yeh come in here for?" he inquired, with a glare of astonishment. "Want 'o buy a dog?" Bradley was mad. "I came because Radbourn sent me. I c'n git out agin, mighty quick." The Judge took down his heels. "Oh, you're that young orator. Why didn't yeh say so, you damned young Indian?" He now rose and walked over to the spittoon before going on. Bradley knew that this rough tone was entirely different from the first. It was a sort of affectionate blackguardism. "I heard you speak last Friday. All you need, young man, is a chance to swing y'r elbows. You want room according to y'r strength, but you never'd find it in the Republican party. It's struck with the palsy."