"Why, is that the way to assist me? What good can you do me by poking off out there in the woods? Well, you may for a while. Three days a week for a time, eh? All right. You are as hard to break in as a steer. What about those stories you told at the General's house. I hear that they were great. But don't let people put you down as a story teller, for when a lawyer gets that reputation, no matter how profound he may be, the public looks upon him as a yarn-spinner, rather than a thinker. You might put them in print, but not under your own name. Bill--came within one of calling you Billy--a great many men succeed in law not because they are bright, but because they are stupid. I never see a jackass that I don't think of a judge--some judges that I know. Well, now, the first and one of the most important things to do is to go over to that tailor and have yourself measured for a suit of clothes. Did I say measured? Surveyed is the word," he added, looking at me from head to foot and then laughing. "Yes, I think that's the word. Well, go on now." When the tailor had completed his "survey" I went to the jail, talked for a few moments with Alf and then straightway rode to the General's house. The old man was sitting on the porch, with one foot resting on a pillow, placed upon a chair. "Get down and come right in!" he shouted; and as I came up the steps he motioned me away from him and said: "Don't touch that hoof, if you please. Buttermilk gout, sir. Look out, you'll tip something over on me. It's a fact--every time I drink buttermilk it goes to my foot. Too much acid. How are you, anyway?" He cautiously reached out his hand and jerked it away when I had merely touched it. "Didn't sleep a wink last night; and every dog in the county came over here to bark. I am very glad you have called; glad that you are too liberal to hold a foolish resentment. And the old folks are gone. 'Od 'zounds, the way things do turn out. The first thing I know I'll swear myself out of the church. It was my pride, sir--but by all the virtues that man has grouped, must we apologize for our pride? Hah, sir! Must I grovel and beg pardon because I honor my own name? I'll see myself blistered first. It wasn't old Lim's fault. Confound it all, it wasn't anybody's fault. Then, sir, must I go crawling around on my belly like a--like a--like an infernal lizard, sir? I hope not. But it will come out all right, I think. After Alf is cleared the old people will come back and all will be well again. What do you want?" A negro boy had poked his head out of the hall door and was looking on with a broad grin. "Dinner!" cried the old man. "But is that the way to announce it--grinning like a cat? Come back here. Now what do you want?" "Dinner is ready, sah," said the boy. "Well, that's all right. But don't come round here grinning at me. Hand me that stick. Oh, I'm not going to hit you with it. Come, Mr. Hawes. No, I don't want you to help me. I can hobble along best by myself."