"Dick really isn't more than two jumps ahead of the wolf, is he, Doctor?" "Well," grinned the elder man, "maybe a jump-and-a-half or two jumps." The young man exclaimed, "Say, Doctor! I think it would be a pious act to make the fellows put up fifty dollars for Dick to-night. I'll just go down and raid a few poker games and make them do it." The Doctor stopped him: "Better let me give it to Dick if you get it, Tom!" Then he added, "Why don't you keep Christian hours, boy? You can't try that Yengst case to-morrow and be up all night!" "That's just what I'm out here for, Doctor--to get my head in shape for the closing speech." "Well," sniffed the Doctor, "I wish you no bad luck, but I hope you lose. Yengst is guilty, and you've no business--" "Doctor," cut in Van Dorn, "there's not a penny in the Yengst case for me! He was a poor devil in trouble and he came to my office for help! Do you consider the morals of your sick folks--whether they have lived virtuous and upright lives when they come to you stricken and in pain? They're just sick folks to you in your office, and they're just poor devils in trouble for me." The Doctor cocked his head on one side, sparrow-wise, looked for a moment at the young man and piped, "You're a brassy pup, aren't you!" A second later the Doctor was trudging up the street, homeward, humming his bee-like song. Van Dorn watched him until his white clothes faded into the shades of the night, then he turned and walked slowly townward, with his hands behind him and his eyes on the ground. He forgot the Yengst case, and everything else in the universe except a girl's gray eyes, her radiant face, and the glory of her aspiring soul. It was calling with all its power to Tom Van Dorn to rise and shine and take up the journey to the stars. And when one hears that call, whether it come from man or maid, from friend or brother, or sweetheart or child, or from the challenge within him of the holy spirit, when he heeds its call, no matter where he is while he hears, he walks with God! So it came to pass the next day that Thomas Van Dorn went before the jury and pleaded for the murderer in the Yengst case with the tongue of men and of angels. For he knew that Dr. Nesbit was loitering in the clerk's office, adjoining the courtroom to listen to the plea. Every faculty of his mind and every capacity of his body was awake, and they said around the court house that it was "the speech of Tom's life!" The Doctor on the front steps of the courthouse met the young man in the daze that follows an oratorical flight, munching a sandwich to relieve his brain, while the multitude made way for him as he went to his office. "Well, Tom--" piped the Doctor as he grasped the sweaty, cold hands of the young orator, "if Yengst had been innocent do you suppose you could have done as well?"