“I don’t blame him,” snorted Amazeen. “What with el’phunt and hosses and hoorah, and yard full and Hime hollerin’ ’round as though he was front of his show tent, and that ding parrot of his squawkin’, ‘Crack ’em down, gents; the old army game!’ I reckon the Squire couldn’t git away any too early. Now-------” he paused, and the two men looked at each other a long time, wrinkling their brows. “If we try to plunk the news about Bradish and ‘Rissy Mayo to him at the fust-off, he’ll shet us up by yappin’ out that he won’t listen to slander. He handles ev’rything that’s spicy news just that way,” observed Buck, dubiously. The young man who dropped the remark about Bradish lounged around the corner and stood eyeing the stairway, incertitude written large on his vapid countenance. Buck, with the air of a conspirator, cautiously reached out his cane and rapped Amazeen’s foot. When the latter raised his abstracted gaze from the ground, Buck winked prodigiously and jerked his head sideways. Amazeen turned and eyed the young man with a shrewd twinkle of understanding. “Son!” he called softly. The young man came along to them. “You ain’t ever had that talk o’ yourn with the Squire, have ye?” A mournful wag of the head. “Wouldn’t you like to have me’n Lys, here, to sort o’ pave the way?” The head waggled again in token of reviving interest. “Well, you go stand acrost the road and when you see me come to the winder and toss out my cud o’ terbacker, you boost along up. Me’n Lys is takin’ a friendly int’rest in the case for you. Now go ’long over there and watch out.” He pushed the young man away hastily as he began to stammer thanks. “I can’t talk with the dum fool,” he growled through the corner of his mouth, as he led the way up the stairs. “Fur’s I’m concerned I wisht he was married to a half dozen jest like the one he’s hitched up with. But as long’s we’ve got to git this thing to the Squire ’round Robin Hood’s barn, Mayo’s fool makes a good road-breaker, as you might say. Now I’ll start in on the Squire as though I was ready mad because he has married Wat to that girl, and that will bring him up all standin’ to argue that the marriage is a rousin’ success.” “One that King Bradish is tryin’ to mess into and bust up, hey?” suggested Buck with a knowing leer. Amazeen returned the look with just as much significance, thrust his elbow into Buck’s ribs and started up the stairs. “You’re right,” asserted Buck. “The Squire’ll fight other folkses’ battles before he’ll take up his own--always did, always will, prob’ly. Now, I reckon if we manage this thing right, King Bradish will get the wickin’ put to him in good shape.” He stopped outside the door of the office and concluded in a husky whisper: