“They're coming out to spend the evening, aren't they?” asked Briscoe, nodding to the young men as they set off down the road. “Lige has to come whether he wants to or not,” Minnie laughed, rather consciously; “It's his turn to-night to look after Mr. Harkless.” “I guess he won't mind coming,” said the judge. “Well,” returned his daughter, glancing at Helen, who stood apart, reading the telegram to Fisbee, “I know if he follows Mr. Harkless he'll get here pretty soon after supper--as soon as the moon comes up, anyway.” The editor of the “Herald” was late to his supper that evening. It was dusk when he reached the hotel, and, for the first time in history, a gentleman sat down to meat in that house of entertainment in evening dress. There was no one in the diningroom when he went in; the other boarders had finished, and it was Cynthia's “evening out,” but the landlord came and attended to his guests' wants himself, and chatted with him while he ate. “There's a picture of Henry Clay,” remarked Landis, in obvious relevancy to his companion's attire, “there's a picture of Henry Clay somewheres about the house in a swallow-tail coat. Governor Ray spoke here in one in early times, Bodeffer says, except it was higher built up 'n yourn about the collar, and had brass buttons, I think. Ole man Wimby was here to-night,” the landlord continued, changing the subject. “He waited around fer ye a good while. He's be'n mighty wrought up sence the trouble this morning, an' wanted to see ye bad. I don't know 'f you seen it, but that feller 't knocked your hat off was mighty near tore to pieces in the crowd before he got away. 'Seems some the boys re-_cog_-nized him as one the Cross-Roads Skillets, and sicked the dogs on him, and he had a pretty mean time of it. Wimby says the Cross-Roads folks'll be worse 'n ever, and, says he, 'Tell him to stick close to town,' says he. 'They'll do anything to git him now,' says he, 'and _resk_ anything.' I told him you wouldn't take no stock in it, but, see here, don't you put nothin' too mean fer them folks. I tell you, Mr. Harkless, plenty of us are scared fer ye.” The good fellow was so earnest that when the editor's meal was finished and he would have departed, Landis detained him almost by force until the arrival of Mr. Willetts, who, the landlord knew, was his allotted escort' for the evening. When Lige came (wearing a new tie, a pink one he had hastened to buy as soon as his engagements had allowed him the opportunity), Mr. Landis hissed a savage word of reproach for his tardiness in his ear, and whisperingly bade him not let the other out of reach that night, to which Willetts replied with a nod implying his trustworthiness; and the young men set off in the darkness.