“Mornin', Judge Priest,” said the sheriff. “This here gentleman wants to see you a minute about gittin' out an attachment. I taken him first to the county judge's office, but it seems like Judge Landis went up to Louisville last night, and the magistrates' offices air closed--both of them, in fact; and so seein' as this gentleman is in a kind of a hurry, I taken the liberty of bringin' him round to you.” Before the judge could open his mouth, he of the dyed mustache was breaking in. “Yes, sirree,” he began briskly. “If you're the judge here I want an attachment. I've got a good claim against Dan Silver, and blame me if I don't push it. I'll fix him--red-lighting me off my own privilege car!” He puffed up with rage and injury. “What appears to be the main trouble?” asked the judge, studying this belligerent one from under his hatbrim. “Well, it's simple enough,” explained the man. “Stanton is my name--here's my card--and I'm the fixer for this show--the legal adjuster, see? Or, anyhow, I was until last night. And I likewise am--or was--half partner with Dan Silver in the privilege car and in the speculative interests of this show--the flat joints and the rackets and all. You make me now, I guess? Well, last night, coming up here from the last stand, me and Silver fell out over the split-up, over dividing the day's profits--you understand, the money is cut up two ways every night--and I ketched him trying to trim me. I called him down good and hard then, and blame if he didn't have the nerve to call in that big boss razor-back of his, named Saginaw, and a couple more rousters, and red-light me right off my own privilege car! Now what do you know about that?” “Only what you tell me,” replied Judge Priest calmly. “Might I ask you what is the process of red-lightin' a person of your callin' in life?” “Chucking you off of a train without waiting for the train to stop, that's what,” expounded the aggrieved Mr. Stanton. “It was pretty soft for me that I lit on the side of a dirt bank and we wasn't moving very fast, else I'd a been killed. As 'twas I about ruined a suit of clothes and scraped most of the meat off of one leg.” He indicated the denuded limb by raising it stiffly a couple of times and then felt for his comb. Use of it appeared to have a somewhat soothing effect upon his feelings, and he continued: “So I limped up to the next station, two of the longest miles in the world, and caught a freight coming through, and here I am. And now I want to file against him--the dirty, red-lighting dog!