Meanwhile, Sammy slept, with his yellow curls mingling with Shot’s yellow hair; they were boon companions and no one troubled the child. Once or twice Zeb Bartlett had come, bent on making trouble, but he had been sent away. Sammy found his new home wholly desirable; Aunt Charity was even growing fond of him, and Dr. Cheyney brought him toys. But between Caleb and himself there was a complete understanding; the child followed him about as patiently as did Shot, and as unquestioningly. In some mysterious way he had grasped the meaning of his adoption, and he understood the silent, preoccupied man as well as the dog did. With both it was an instinct that recognized kindness and protection. Left to amuse himself from babyhood, Sammy made little trouble. He would lie on his stomach by the hour working a toy train of cars to and fro in one spot, and he had destroyed only one brief which had been left within his reach. Judge Hollis talked for over an hour, going over the case which was to come up before Judge Ladd in ten days. He saw that Trench had prepared every inch of it, and that he was chiefly wanted as a notable figurehead, yet he was nothing loath to be the figurehead. When he had fully grasped the evidence, and saw before him one of the biggest cases on record in the State courts, he threw back his head like an old war-horse snuffing the battle afar. “By the Lord Harry!” he said, slapping his knee, “we’ll whip them to kingdom come, Caleb, and shear the sheep at that!” Then his eye suddenly lighted on the sleeping child, and his shaggy brows dropped; he stooped over and looked at him, thrusting out his underlip. “Caleb,” he said, “send that brat to St. Vincent’s.” Caleb, who was making notes, looked up. “Why?” he asked dryly. The judge growled. “You’re a tarnation fool!” he replied. “I’m not asking whose child he is! What I say is--send him packing.” Caleb turned and glanced at the child, and the judge, watching him, was astonished at the softening of his face. “Poor little devil,” he said quietly, “I fancy he’ll stay as long as I do, Judge Hollis. I’ve had no home, I’ve been in desperate straits, now I’ve got this roof. That dog was a stray, so is the child--they’re welcome.” The judge was silent for a long while. Then he drew a pattern on the floor with his cane. “Caleb,” he said, more kindly, “that kid has raised Cain for you. Jinny Eaton is blowing the news to the four winds of heaven, and everybody believes it. You might as well hang an albatross around your neck. If you’re not the child’s father--by gum, sir, you might as well be!” Caleb set his teeth hard, and the light came into his eyes,--the light that some people dreaded. “Judge,” he said sternly, “I’m accountable to no man, neither am I a coward. Mrs. Eaton may say what she pleases; being a woman, she is beyond my reach.”