Mr. Wade parted his coat tails and sat down, performing that duty with the air of a sacrament. Johnny did not rise. He settled back comfortably in his chair and looked benevolently at the witness. "Now, Mr. Hales, about that yearling I branded in Redgate cañon--what color was it?" Mr. Wade rose, indignant. "Your honor, I object! The question is irrelevant, incompetent and immaterial. Aside from its legal status, such a question is foolish and absurd, and an insult to the court." "Why, now, I didn't object to any of your foolish and absurd questions all morning." Johnny's eyes widened with gentle reproach. "I let you ask all the questions you wanted." Mr. Wade's nose twisted to a triumphant sneer. "'He who is his own lawyer has a fool for a client!'" "I didn't want to take any unfair advantage," explained Johnny. "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" expostulated the court. "You gallows meat!" snarled Wade. "You dirty--" Johnny shook his head in a friendly warning. "He means you, too," he whispered. The gavel fell heavily. The court rose up and the court's eyes narrowed. "This bickering has got to stop! It is disgraceful. I don't want to see any more of it. Mr. Wade, for that last remark of yours you ought to pay a heavy fine, and you know it very well. This prisoner is being tried for murder. That does not make him a murderer. Your words were unmanly, sir." "May it please the court," said Wade, white faced and trembling with rage, "I acknowledge myself entirely wrong, and I beg the court's pardon. I own that I was exasperated. The prisoner insulted me grossly." "You insulted him first. You have been doing it right along. You lawyers are always browbeating witnesses and prisoners. You get 'em where they can't talk back and then you pelt 'em with slurs and hints and sneers and insults. You take a mean advantage of your privileged position to be overbearing and arrogant. I've watched you at it. I don't think it is very sporting to say in the court room what you wouldn't dare say on the street. But when someone takes a whack at you--wow! that's different! Then you want the court to protect you." He paused to consider. The justice of the peace--Judge Hinkle, Andy Hinkle--was a slim, wizened man, brown handed, brown faced, lean and wrinkled, with thin gray hair and a thin gray beard and faded blue eyes, which could blaze blue fire on occasion. Such fire, though a mild one, now died away from those old eyes, and into them crept a slightly puzzled expression. He looked hard at Mr. Wade and he looked hard at Mr. Dines. Then he proceeded. "Mr. Wade, this court--Oh, let's cut out the court--that makes me tired! 'This court fines you twenty-five dollars for contempt of court.' How would that sound?" Wade managed a smile, and bowed, not ungracefully. "It would sound unpleasant--perhaps a little severe, sir."