"How are you, Hod?" said Henderson carelessly; thus accosting the only man at the Spring Valley bar for whom really he had much respect or fear--Horace Brooks, popularly known in Spring Valley as "old Hod Brooks," perhaps the most carelessly dressed man physically and the most exactly appointed man mentally then practising before that bar. A little sign far down the narrow hall betokened that the office of Horace Brooks might thereabouts be found by any in search of counsel in the law. "Oh, are you retained in this case, Hod?" Judge Hendenson spoke over his shoulder. "Not at all, Judge, not at all," said the other. None the less he himself followed on into the crowded little room. As Judge Henderson entered all eyes were turned upon him. Conscious of the fact that he honored this assemblage, he comported himself with dignity proper for a candidate. He was a man well used to success in any undertaking, and he looked his part now. The full, florid face, the broad brow, sloping back to a ridge of iron-gray hair, the full blue eyes, the loose, easy lips, the curved chin, the large, white hands, the full chest, the soft body, the reddening skin of the face--all of these offered good index to the character of William Henderson. Lawyer, judge, politician and leading citizen--he was the type of these things, the village Caesar, and knew well enough the tribute due to Caesar. A few eyes turned from the adequate figure of Judge Henderson to the loose and shambling form of the man who edged in to the front of the table. Rumor had it that in the early times, twenty years or more ago, Judge Henderson had come to that city with a single law book under his arm as his sole capital in his profession. Old Hod Brooks had made his own advent in precisely similar fashion, belated much in life by reason of his having to work his way through school. Since then his life had been one steady combat, mostly arrayed against Henderson himself. Perhaps it might have been said that they two from the first were rivals for the leading place at the local bar, little as Henderson himself now cared for that. He was well intrenched, and all opponents, such as this shambling giant with the red beard and nondescript carriage, must attack in the open. Judge Blackman coughed ominously once more. "Order in the court!" he intoned, pounding on the table in front of him.