By the repeater which Joe consults it is now a quarter of ten. The two gentlemen stroll over the grassy plaza. By a singular provincial custom each carries a neat navy revolver, where a hand could drop easily on it. Joe also caresses his favorite knife in his overcoat pocket. In five minutes they are seated with Philip Hardin in his room. There is an air of gloomy readiness in Hardin which shows the unbending nature of the man. He is alone. Woods frankly says: "Judge Hardin, I wish you to know my friend, Mr. Henry Peyton. If anything should happen to me, he knows all my views. He will represent me. As you are alone, I will ask Mr. Peyton to wait for me below." Henry Peyton bows and passes downstairs, where he is regarded as an archangel of the enemy. For the Hardin headquarters are loyal to their great chief. The man who controls the millions of Lagunitas is surrounded by his loyal body-guard at Mariposa. When the two men are alone, Woods waits for Hardin to speak. He is silent. There is a gulf between them which never can be bridged. Joseph feels he is no match for Hardin in chicanery, but he has his little surprise in store for the lawyer. It is an armed truce. "Hardin, I've come over to-night to talk a little politics with you," begins Joseph. His eye is glued on the Judge's, who steadily returns the glance. CHAPTER XX. JUDGE HARDIN MEETS HIS MATCH.--A SENATORIAL ELECTION.--IN A MARIPOSA COURT-ROOM.--THE TRUST FULFILLED AT LAGUNITAS. "You need not trouble yourself about my political aspirations, sir," haughtily remarks Hardin, glaring at the stolid visitor, who calmly continues. "I don't allow no trouble, Jedge," Woods drawls. "I'll play my cards open. I run this here joint convention, which makes or breaks you. I'm dead-flat plain in my meaning. I can burst up your election as United States Senator, unless you and me can make 'a deal.'" "Your terms?" sneers Hardin, with a glance at Joe's hand in his pocket, "Toujours pret" is Joseph's motto. "Oh, my terms! I'll be open, Jedge. I leave this here lawsuit between us, to our lawyers. I will fight you fair in that. You will find me on the square." "Do you threaten me, sir?" demands Hardin. "Now, make your own game." Joe's brow darkens. "Hardin, I want you to hear me out; you can take it then, in any shape you want to. Fight or trade." Woods' old Missouri grit is aroused. "Go on," says Hardin, with a rising gorge. "You're talking marriage." Joe's sneer maddens Hardin. "I tell you now to settle old scores with the lady whom I found in your hands to-night. If you don't, you're not going to the Senate." Hardin gathers himself. Ah, that hand in the pocket! "Don't make a mistake, Jedge," coldly interjects Woods. "Drop that gun. We're no bravos." "I positively decline to have any bargain with you on my private matters. After you leave this room, you can look out for yourself, if you cross my path," hisses the Judge, his face pale and ghastly.