Shortly after ten, two figures approached the hotel from the direction of the shipping-shed. One was short and thick-set; the other wore a hat banded with bright silk. The street was illy lighted, and they did not see the figure by the door until the thick-set man, who was leading, was within arm’s length of it. Then the Judge moved, looking up into the faces of the two. Luce gave him a swift glance and entered the barroom. But Homer halted suddenly, called a nervous good-night after his companion, turned away sharply, and hurried into the darkness toward home. The next evening found the Judge again tipped back in a chair beside the barroom entrance. But the third evening he came to his station at a late hour and, before sitting down, parted the swinging doors to stand between them a moment, leisurely surveying the brightly-lighted room. Each night afterward he returned--always at a different hour. Midnight of the day the first refrigerator cars intended for the pear shipment were shunted upon the siding at the shipping-shed he again came face to face with Jim Luce at the Occidental. The rancher had been drinking, and walked unsteadily, so the Judge stepped out of his way. But Luce recognised him, and turned upon him with a curse. “You been spyin’ on me,” charged Luce thickly. “Just as if I ain’t got a right to spend my money like I want to! I say, you been spyin’ on me, an’ you can’t deny it.” He wavered from side to side before the tall figure of the Judge. “But you cut it out. You hear me? You cut it out.” “What do I want to spy on you for?” inquired the Judge mildly. “You’re full, Jim.” “You’re mixin’ up in my business,” shrilled the other. “But I’ll pay that alimony when I git good an’ ready.” The swinging doors were opening now and men were coming out. “Don’t stir up no fracas,” advised the Judge. “I’m Justice of the Peace, mind y’--Peace. An’ I’m goin’ to see that it’s kept.” The next moment the little crowd was treated to an exciting outcome of the meeting. Luce staggered forward and struck. The Judge, avoiding the blow, seized the rancher by the upturned collar of his coat, shook him vigorously and led him away up the street, half a dozen of the curious falling in behind. The general merchandise store was passed, and the rickety sidewalk; then the Judge unlocked a door beyond the entrance of the courtroom. “Jim,” he said, “you been itchin’ for the lockup. And here you are!” He pulled his prisoner after him into a dark room. Someone struck a match, and the room was seen to contain a narrow bed, and a table upon which were writing materials. The Judge tumbled Luce upon the bed without ceremony. Then the crowd backed out, and the key was turned in the lock once more. “It’s all over, boys,” said the Judge from the sidewalk. “Good-night.”