Pole grasped the brim of his massive hat, and drew it from his shaggy head. “It makes me so all-fired mad sometimes, Mr. Fincher, to heer folks a-runnin' that man down, that I want to fight. I ain't no religious man myse'f, but I respect one, an' I've always put him down in my book as a good man.” “So 've I,” said the merchant, and he looked towards the subject of their conversation and called out: “Craig, oh, Craig, come back heer a minute.” Pole put on his hat and stared at the ground. He made a gesture as if of protest, but refrained from speaking. “What's wanted?” Craig came down to them. He was smoking a cigar and wore a comfortable look, as if he had been fighting a hard but successful fight and now heard only random shots from a fleeing enemy. “You ain't a candidate fer office,” laughed Fincher, “but nearly all men like to know they've got friends. This chap heer's been standin' up fer you. He says it makes him mad to hear folks talk agin you.” “Oh, it's Baker!” exclaimed the ex-banker, shaking hands with Pole and beaming on him. “Well, I don't know a man I'd rather have for a friend,” he said, smoothly. Pole tossed his head, and looked straight into the speaker's eye. “I'm fer human justice, Mr. Craig,” he said. “An' I don't think folks has treated you right. What man is thar that don't now an' then make mistakes, sir? You've always had means, an' I never was anything but a pore mountain-boy, but I've always looked on you as a good man, a law-abidin' man, an' I don't like to heer folks try to blame you fer what another man done. When you had plenty, I never come nigh you, beca'se I knowed you belonged to one life an' me another, but now you are flat o' yore back, sir, I'm yore friend.” Craig's face beamed; he pulled his beard; his eyes danced. “I'm glad there are men in the world like you, Baker,” he said. “I say I'm glad, and I mean it.” Fincher had begun to look over the figures in his book, and walked to the front. “Oh, my friendship ain't wuth nothin',” said Pole. “I know that. I never was in the shape to he'p nobody, but I know when a man' s treated right or wrong.” “Well, if you ever need assistance, and I can help you, don't fail to call on me,” Craig spoke with a tone of sincerity. Pole took a deep breath and lowered his voice, glancing cautiously into the house, as if fearful of being overheard. “Well, I _do_ need advice, Mr. Craig,” he said. “Not money, nor nothin' expensive, but I've laid awake night after night wishing 'at I could run on some man of experience that I could ax fer advice, an' that I could trust. Mr. Craig, I 'll be blamed ef I don't feel like tellin' you some 'n' that never has passed my lips.” Craig stared in interested astonishment. “Well, you can trust me, Baker,” he said; “and if I can advise you, why, I 'll do it with pleasure.”