"I've made you an executor in my will, judge," he said, "an' I want you to see that some things are done yourself." The judge nodded. "I want you to have a new church built in Happy Valley. I want you to give St. Hilda and that settlement school five thousand a year. An'"--he paused--"you know ole Bill Maddox cut me out an' married Sally Ann Spurlock--how many children they got now, judge?" "Ten--oldest, sixteen." "Well, I want you to see that every gol-durned one of 'em gits the chance to go to school." Now, old Bill Maddox was running against the Pope, and was fighting him hard, and the judge hated old Bill Maddox; so he said nothing. The Pope too was silent a long while. "Judge, I got all my money out o' the mountain folks. I robbed 'em right and left." "You ain't never robbed nobody in Happy Valley," said the judge a little grimly, and the Pope chuckled. "No, you wouldn't let me. I got all my money from 'em an' do you know what I'm goin' to do?" "Git some more, I reckon." [Illustration] The Pope chuckled again: "I'm a-goin' to give it back to 'em. Churches, schools, libraries, hospitals, good roads--any durned thing in the world that will do 'em any good. It's all in my will. An', judge," he added with a little embarrassment, "I've sort o' fixed it so that when you want to help out a widder or a orphan in Happy Valley you can do it without always diggin' down into yo' own jeans." "Shucks, don't you worry about me or the folks in Happy Valley--you done enough fer them lettin' 'em alone; an' that durned ole Bill Maddox, he's a fightin' you right now afore yo' face an' behind yo' back. He's the meanest----" "Makes no difference. His children ain't to blame an' thar's Sally Ann." The Pope yawned and his brow wrinkled with pain. "I better take a little more sleep, judge." A doctor came in and felt the Pope's pulse and the judge left the room worried by the physician's face and his whispered direction to the nurse to summon another doctor. An hour later the Pope called him back, and his voice was weak: "Bring in every telegram, judge." "You mustn't bother," interposed the doctor firmly, and the Pope's mouth set and the old dominant gleam came into his eyes. "Bring in every telegram," he repeated. Outside, in the hallway, the judge waylaid the doctor. "Ain't he goin' to pull through?" "One chance in a thousand," was the curt answer. About three o'clock the judge got a telegram that made him swear fearfully, and thereafter they came fast. The Pope would use no money. The judge wired the Pope's manager warily offering a thousand of his own. The answer came--"Too late." At five o'clock they were running neck and neck. Ten minutes before the polls closed old Bill Maddox rounded up twenty more votes and victory was his. And all the while the judge was making reports to the Pope: "Runnin' easy." "It's a cinch." "Ole Bill fighting tooth and toe-nail but you got him, Jim." "Countin' the votes now."