“I am ready to give my time gratuitously to directing the activities of a body of picked men who shall rid the county of the lawless element. God knows, sir, I desire the repose of a private career, yet I am willing to sacrifice myself. Is it your opinion, Mr. Saul, that I should move in this matter?” “I advise you didn't,” said Mr. Saul, with disappointing alacrity. The judge looked at him fixedly. “Am I wrong in supposing, Mr. Saul, that if I determine to act as I have outlined I shall have your indorsement?” he demanded. Mr. Saul looked extremely uncomfortable; he was finding the judge's effulgent personality rather compelling. “There is no gentleman whose support I should value in quite the same sense that I should value yours, Mr. Saul; I should like to feel my course met with your full approval,” pursued the judge, with charming deference. “You'll get yourself shot full of holes,” said Mr. Saul. “What causes me to hesitate is this: my name is unfamiliar to your citizens. You know their prejudices, Mr. Saul; how would they regard me if I put myself forward?” “Can't say how they would take it,” rejoined Mr. Saul. Again the judge gave him a fixed scrutiny. Then ha shook him warmly by the hand. “Think of what I have said; ponder it, sir, and let me have your answer at another time.” And he backed from Mr. Saul's presence with spectacular politeness. “A cheap mind!” thought the judge, as he hurried up the street. He broached the subject to Mr. Wesley the postmaster, to Mr. Ellison the gunsmith, to Mr. Pegloe, employing much the same formula he had used with Mr. Saul, and with results almost identical. He imagined there must be some conspiracy afoot to keep him out of the public eye, and in the end he managed to lose his temper. “Hasn't Norton any friends?” he demanded of Pegloe. “Who's going to be safe at this rate? We want to let some law into west Tennessee, a hanging or two would clear the air!” His emotions became a rage that blew through him like a gale, shaking him to his center. Two mornings later he found where it had been placed under his door during the night a folded paper. It contained a single line of writing: “You talk too much. Shut up, or you'll go where Norton went.” Now the judge was accessible to certain forms of fear. He was, for instance, afraid of snakes--both kinds--and mobs he had dreaded desperately since his Pleasantville experience; but beyond this, fear remained an unexplored region to Slocum Price, and as he examined the scrawl a smile betokening supreme satisfaction overspread his battered features. He was agreeably affected by the situation; indeed he was delighted. His activities were being recognized; he had made his impression; the cutthroats had selected him to threaten. Well, the damned rascals showed their good sense; he'd grant them that! Swelling with pride, he carried the scrawl to Mahaffy.