Hugh was greatly interested in the judge’s prophecies. He attributed the judge’s glibness to the liquor he had drunk, but, nevertheless, his words had a ring of prophecy about them. He determined to speak to Captain Osborn the next day in regard to the matter. “No one ‘round here believes me,” said the judge, “they’re all holdin’ bobtail flushes and tryin’ to bluff nachure; but I’m assoomin’ they’ll be called good an’ plenty. You may speak to Captain Osborn if you like; it won’t do no harm—won’t do no good, nuther. Of course you’ll believe him and go right on as if you’d never heard me talk. Reckon I can tell thoughts when I see ‘em squirmin’ all over a man’s race. Bet yer life I can.” Hugh arose. “Hold on, Stanton,” said the judge, “not yet; not until I’ve treated the noomerous departed to a whiskey straight. Here, fill ‘em up again,” he called to the attendant. Hugh sat down, and Judge Lynn began again: “Say, have you ever met my old friend, Major Buell Hampton?” Hugh replied that he had. “Well, he’s brainy,” said the judge, “he’s way up—a nacheral born leader. You bet. Ever since he was nominated for the legislature, and refused to run, he’s been regarded by his political associates as the Bismarck of southwestern Kansas. Fact is, he won’t take no office. His editorials are hummers; they keeps a-breedin’ trouble a heap for the Republicans. They’re what converted me to the faith. Bet yer life, I know a political truth when I find it blowin’ ‘round loose.” “Oh, you’re a Populist, too, are you?” inquired Hugh. “Bet yer life I am,” replied the judge, enthusiastically, “though I’m not a Barley Huller. Fact is, the Barley Hullers is a great organization, sort o’ select, you know,—the ‘four hundred’ of southwestern Kansas, as it were.” “That being the case I should suppose you would join them,” said Hugh, with a tinge of irony in his words. “No, sir!” said the judge, emphatically. “I’ve political aspirations, and if I j’ined, it might be said by designin’, malicious, an’ malignant political enemies that I’d done it to further my political ambitions; and a sensitive man like me, Stanton, could n’t stand that kind of talk and whisperin’ ‘round. Bet yer life I could n’t You look sorter supercilious and disbelievin’, Stanton, but I’m statin’ solid facts; yes, sirree.” Hugh was about to make a remark, when the judge went on, in a low, confidential tone: “Between us, Stanton, I once put in my application for membership with the Barley Hullers. Never been able to learn definitely what the investigatin’ committee reported, but I do know they were short of oil that night at their lodge-room, and those condemnedly awkward farmers balloted on my application in a practically dark room. Course they could n’t see what colored balls they were droppin’ into the jedgment box. Well, would you believe it—it’s a coincidence, sir, without a parallel—every cussed ball was as black as Egyptian night; yes, sir.”