"Well, all I got to say is that if it was me he left it to, it wouldn't take no searchin' to find me," he said. "Is he married?" "Very likely he is married," said the judge, with that portentous repression and caution behind his words which some people are able to use with such mysterious effect. "Shades of catnip!" said Sol. They rode on a little way in silence, Sol being quite exhausted on account of his consuming surprise over what he believed himself to be finding out. Presently he returned to his prying, and asked: "Can Ollie come in for her dower rights in case the court lets Isom's will stand?" "That is a question," replied the judge, deliberating at his pause and sucking in his cheeks, "which will have to be decided." "Does he favor Isom any?" asked Sol. "Who?" queried the judge. "Isom's boy." "There doubtless is some resemblance--it is only natural that there should be a resemblance between father and son," nodded the judge. "But as for myself, I cannot say." "You ain't seen him, heh?" said Sol, eyeing him sharply. "Not exactly," allowed the judge. "Land o' Moab!" said Sol. They rode on another eighty rods without a word between them. "Got his picture, I reckon?" asked Sol at last, sounding the judge's face all the while with his eager eyes. "I turn off here," said the judge. "I'm takin' the short cut over the ford and through Miller's place. Looks like the rain would thicken." He gave Sol good day, and turned off into a brush-grown road which plunged into the woods. Sol went on his way, stirred by comfortable emotions. What a story he meant to spread next day at the county-seat; what a piece of news he was going to be the source of, indeed! Of course, Sol had no knowledge of what was going forward at the county farm that very afternoon, even the very hour when Joe Newbolt was sweating blood on the witness stand, If he had known, it is not likely that he would have waited until morning to spread the tale abroad. This is what it was. Ollie's lawyer was there in consultation with Uncle John Owens regarding Isom's will. Consultation is the word, for it had come to that felicitous pass between them. Uncle John could communicate his thoughts freely to his fellow-beings again, and receive theirs intelligently. All this had been wrought not by a miracle, but by the systematic preparation of the attorney, who was determined to sound the secret which lay locked in that silent mind. If Isom had a son when that will was made a generation back, Uncle John Owens was the man who knew it, and the only living man. In pursuit of this mystery, the lawyer had caused to be printed many little strips of cardboard in the language of the blind. These covered all the ground that he desired to explore, from preliminaries to climax, with every pertinent question which his fertile mind could shape, and every answer which he felt was due to Uncle John to satisfy his curiosity and inform him fully of what had transpired.