“Judge Priest,” stated Mr. Flournoy from the threshold, “I've about made up my mind that I'm always going to agree with you.” Inside of two hours the commonwealth's attorney returned from his errand, apparently much exalted of spirit. “Say, Judge,” he proclaimed as he came through the door, “I imagine it won't be necessary for you to take the steps you were mentioning a while ago.” “No?” “No, siree. Once I'd started it I judge the news must've spread pretty fast. Outside on the Square, as I was on my way back up here from downtown, Beck Giltner waylaid me to ask me to tell you for him that he was going to close down his game and try to make a living some other way. I'm no deep admirer of the life, works and character of Beck Giltner, but I'll say this much for him--he keeps his promise once he's made it. I'd take his word before I'd take the word of a lot of people who wouldn't speak to him on the street. “And we're going to lose our uncrowned king. Yes, sir, Highpockets the First is preparing to leave us flat. After hearing what I had to tell him, he said in a passionate sort of way that a man might as well quit a community where he can't get justice. I gather that he's figuring on pulling his freight for some more populous spot where he can enjoy a wider field of endeavour and escape the vulgar snickers of the multitude. He spoke of Chicago.” “Ah, hah!” said Judge Priest; and then after a little pause: “Well, Jerome, my son, ef I have to give up any member of this here community I reckin Mister Highpockets Elmer Magee, Esquire, is probably the one I kin spare the easiest. When is he aimin' to go from us?” “Right away, I think, from what he said.” “Well,” went on Judge Priest, “ef so be you should happen to run acros't him ag'in before he takes his departure from amongst us you mout--in strict confidence, of course--tell him somethin' else. He mout care to ponder on it while he is on his way elsewhere. That there old scattergun, which he looked down the barrels of it the other night, wasn't loaded.” “Wasn't loaded? Whee!” chortled Mr. Flournoy. “Well, of all the good jokes----” He caught himself: “Say, Judge, how did you know it wasn't loaded?” “Why, she told me, son--the Widder Norfleet told me so last night. You see she come runnin' over the back way from her house to my place--I glean somethin' had happened which made her think the time had arrived to put herself in touch with sech of the authorities ez she felt she could trust--and she detailed the whole circumstances to me. 'Twas me suggested to her that she'd better write you that there letter. In fact, you mout say I sort of dictated its gin'ral tenor. I told her that you ez the prosecutor was the one that'd be most interested in hearin' any formal statement she mout care to make, and so----” Mr. Flournoy slumped down into a handy chair and ran some fingers through his hair. “Then part of the joke is on me too,” he owned.