"And he and I will have a trouble as soon as this one is settled," I replied. "Oh, I reckon not. I don't see why any man of sense should want to have trouble with you. Just look how they are flocking to town. Hope they'll turn out this way and vote for me at the next election for sheriff. Women, too. See them coming out of that gate?" When we rode into the town the streets were thronged and horsemen, wagons and buggies were thick on the public square. The ginger cake and cider vender was there, with his stand near the court-house steps, and the neigh of the colt and the distressful answer of his mother, tied to the rack, echoed throughout the town. Dogs, meeting one another for the first time, decided in their knowing way that they were enemies, but suddenly became allies in a yelping chase after one of their kind that came down the street with a tin can tied to his tail. I went at once to Conkwright's office and found him with his feet on a table, contentedly smoking a cob pipe. "I was just thinking over some points that I want to make," he remarked as I entered. "And I hope, sir, that you are in the proper humor to make them." "Can't tell about that. Oratory is as stealthy and as illusive as a weazel at night. You never know when he's coming." "But do you feel well?" I anxiously inquired. "Oh, feel first-rate, but that doesn't make any particular difference. Sometimes a man may think that he feels well, but when he gets up to speak he finds that he is simply sluggish. Reckon I'll get through all right. Do the best I can, any way, and if I fail it can't be helped. Guess we'd better go over."