Then the judge gave to his audience a short lecture on honest citizenship and loyalty to the new State. It was so simple that Doby understood its every word, and so earnest that it brought the ready tears to his eyes as he stood close beside the judge, looking up at him. The court adjourned. Day was closing. Victims of the robberies hastened to prove their properties. They must get back to the wagons by milking-time. The trial was over. Every one was satisfied--except Doby. "Don't cry," said his father, impatiently this time, to the boy behind him on the homeward-bound horse. "I want my knife!" wailed Doby. His father pulled up short. "We have taken up hours of valuable time! We have stopped the making of a State to get it for you! What more do you want?" "I--want--my--knife!" "Hav'n't you got your knife?" "No!" "Who has it?" demanded his father. "_He_ has," stuttered Doby. "_He_ has. He will come past this cross-trail in a few minutes. He said he was going home this way. Can't we wait and ask him for it?" "Who?" cried his father. "Ask whom?" "Him," gulped Doby. "Him. I don't want anybody to arrest him. I love him." Bewildered, Mr. Holman stared. "What do you mean?" Doby swallowed hard. He began again: "The clerk picked up my knife and sharpened a goose-quill into a pen-point. Then he gave the knife to the judge. The judge cut a pen for himself. Then he put the knife in his pocket while he was talking to the clerk. My knife is--in--the judge's--pocket--this--minute!" Mr. Holman protested: "But, Doby, you went to the judge and asked him for it. I saw you do that." "Yes, I told him to please give me what he had in his pocket. And he put his hand in his pocket to get it for me as he was telling me not to feel so sorry about the trial. He said I must not cry about it. Then he pulled his handkerchief instead of my knife from his pocket, and he wiped my eyes and he gave me the handkerchief, and he patted me on the head and went away--" Here poor Doby broke down completely and used the Jennings linen freely. Mr. Holman was greatly amused to find that the absent-minded judge had given the boy the handkerchief which was needed in place of the knife which was wanted. How heartily the people's idol--the adored Jonathan Jennings--the great man of the convention--would laugh at his own mistake! How quickly he would "trade back" the knife for the handkerchief, and how happily Doby's tears over the loss of his property would be changed to smiles over its recovery! The chuckling father and the weeping son reined up beside the trail. Mr. Holman said to Doby: "I can see the judge coming now. We will stop him. You must speak to him yourself. It will please his sense of justice to have you demand reparation because you feel sure of his kindness. When he gives you the knife he will give you his affection with it. He will be your friend for life." X THE SPELLING-MATCH