When the Reverend Bronson, and the drunken Cicero, in care of his keeper, had gone their several ways, Big Kennedy wheeled upon us. He was briefly informed of the troubles of Mulberry Traction. “If them gas crooks don't hold hard,” said he, when young Morton had finished, “we'll have an amendment to th' city charter passed at Albany, puttin' their meters under th' thumb an' th' eye of th' Board of Lightin' an' Supplies. I wonder how they'd like that! It would cut sixty per cent, off their gas bills. However, mebby th' Gas Company's buttin' into this thing in th' dark. What judge does the injunction come up before?” “Judge Mole,” said young Morton. “Mole, eh?” returned Big Kennedy thoughtfully. “We'll shift th' case to some other judge. Mole won't do; he's th' Gas Company's judge, d'ye see.” “The Gas Company's judge!” exclaimed the reputable old gentleman, in horrified amazement. Big Kennedy, at this, shone down upon the reputable old gentleman like a benignant sun. “Slowly but surely,” said he, “you begin to tumble to th' day an' th' town you're livin' in. Don't you know that every one of our giant companies has its own judge? Why! one of them Captains of Industry, as th' papers call 'em, would no more be without his judge than without his stenographer.” “In what manner,” snorted the reputable old gentleman, “does one of our great corporations become possessed of a judge?” “Simple as sloppin' out champagne!” returned Big Kennedy. “It asks us to nominate him. Then it comes up with his assessment, d'ye see!--an' I've known that to run as high as one hundred thousand--an' then every year it contributes to our various campaigns, say fifty thousand dollars a whirl. Oh! it comes high to have your own private judge; but if you're settin' into a game of commerce where th' limit's higher than a cat's back, it's worth a wise guy's while.” “Come, come!” interposed young Morton, “we've no time for moral and political abstractions, don't y' know! Let's get back to Mulberry Traction. You say Judge Mole won't do. Can you have the case set down before another judge?” “Easy money!” said Big Kennedy. “I'll have Mole send it over to Judge Flyinfox. He'll knock it on th' head, when it comes up, an' that's th' last we'll ever hear of that injunction.” “You speak of Judge Flyinfox with confidence,” observed the reputable old gentleman, breaking in. “Why are you so certain he will dismiss the application for an injunction?”