"Oh, my God!" said Judge Henderson again and again. "Oh, my God!--my God!----" He supported himself against the broken posts of what had been the little gate of Aurora Lane. CHAPTER XX THE IDIOT At seven o'clock of Monday morning, Johnnie Adamson stood at the roadside at the front of his father's farmhouse. He held in his hands a wagon stake which he had found somewhere and with it smote aimlessly at anything which came in his way. His usual amiable smile was gone. A low scowl, like that of some angered anthropoid, had replaced it. His mother, seeing that some unusual turn had taken place in his affliction, stood at the window of the farmhouse looking out at him and wringing her hands. She long ago had ceased to weep--the fountain of tears had dried within her soul. There came to her now and then the sound of his hoarse defiance, hurled at all who passed by on the road. "Son John!--Eejit!--Whip any man in Jackson County!" Ephraim Adamson was at the time in the field at work. His wife at length crept out to the back porch and pulled the cord of the dinner bell. Its sound rang out across the fields. Her husband came running, more than half suspicious of the cause of the alarm. Long had their lives been lived in vague dread of this very thing--a violent turn in the son's affliction. The father's anxious face spoke the question. "Yes, he's bad," said the wife to him. "I'm afraid of him--he's getting worse." The father walked out into the front yard. The youth came toward him, grinning pleasantly. He fell into the position of a batsman, swinging his club back and forth as he must some time have seen ball players do. "Now you--now you throw it at me--and I'll hit it," said the half-wit. "You--you throw it at me--and I'll hit--I'll hit it." To humor him, his father pitched at him a broken apple that lay on the ground near by. Johnny struck at it and by chance caught it fair, crushing it to fragments. At this he laughed in glee. "Now--now--another one," said he. "I'll hit--I'll hit them all." His father walked up to him and reached out a hand, but for the first time the boy resented his control. He broke away, swinging his club menacingly, striking at everything in his way. Ephraim Adamson followed him; but still evading, the half-wit passed out through the gate which led into the garden patch at the rear of the house. With his club he cut at the tops of everything green that he passed. Especially, with many yells of glee, he fell upon the rows of cabbages, then beginning to head out. With heavy blows of his club he cut down one after another. The game seemed to excite him more and more. At last it seemed to enrage him more and more. He struck with greater viciousness. "Eejit!" said he. "I'm out--they can't pick on me! I can hit them! I will, too, hit them! I'll hit him!"