Hennion leaned back and studied the gaslight, and disliked himself. Hicks clasped and unclasped his hands on the table. “It won't hurt him,” he said hoarsely, “between you and me. Besides, you can do that for me. He's my brother, old Al. But I cut away from him. I kept off. I kept away from him for a while, but I couldn't live without seeing him. You see? I couldn't do it. Then he came here, and I followed him, and I lived with a shoemaker across the river and cobbled shoes. But I heard every speech he made in Port Argent, though he never saw me. He thinks I'm dead, don't he? I dodged him pretty slick.” He flushed and smiled--“I liked it,” he whispered, growing excited. “It was better'n the old way, for we got along all right this way. You've heard of him! Ain't he wonderful? Ain't he a great one, hey? That was Al. I liked it, but he didn't know. You see? How'd he know when he thought I was dead, didn't he? I watched him, old Al!” His face was lit up with the warm memory of it. He clicked his teeth, and swayed to and fro, smiling. “We got along all right this way. All right. My idea. Wasn't Al's. I kept the other side the river, mostly. Nobody can touch him when he's fired up, can they? They didn't know Al like I knew him. They called him the Preacher. He scared 'em like prairie fire. He's got his way. I've heard him. I watched 'em, and I knew him, but they didn't, did they?” He focussed his excited eyes suddenly on Hennion. “You! I know you; I know your men that live on the east side. I heard a man say you'd got a heart like a baked potato and don't know it. That fat-headed foreman of yours, Kennedy, he can tell you more 'n you ever thought of. Think you're a composite of steel and brick, set up according to laws of mechanics, don't you? Oh, hell! Go and ask Al. He's a wonder. Why do your men like you? Go and ask 'em. I've told you why. Why'd I shoot Wood? Al wouldn't have let me, but it 'll do good. He scares 'em his way, I scare 'em mine. You wait and see! It 'll do good.” Hennion studied the gas jet, until he could see nothing but an isolated impish dancing flame, until it seemed as if either the little man across the table were chattering far away in the distance and darkness, or else he and the gas jet were one and the same. Aidee had been four years in Port Argent, and so Hicks had been following and watching him, cobbling shoes, living a fanciful, excited life, maniacal more or less. Hennion fancied that he had Hicks' point of view now. “You wait and see! It'll do good.” “Well,” said Hennion, “I dare say you've answered the question. You haven't told me yet what I can do for you.” Hicks' excitement died out as suddenly as it had risen. He reached a trembling hand across the table, and whispered: “I thought---- What do you think they'll do to me?” “I can't help you there. You'll have counsel.”