“He’s got a house right next to the courthouse—on your left, from here,” the clerk told him. A few minutes later Carrington was seated opposite Judge Littlefield, with a table between them, in the front room of the judge’s residence. “My name is Carrington—James J.,” was Carrington’s introduction of himself. “I have just left the governor, and he gave me these, to hand over to you.” He shoved over the papers the governor had given him, smiling slightly at the other. The judge answered the smile with a beaming smirk. “I’ve heard of you,” he said; “the governor has often spoken of you.” He glanced hastily over the papers, and his smirk widened. “The good people of Dawes will be rather shocked over this decision, I suppose. But laymen _will_ confuse things—won’t they? Now, if Norton and his friends had come to _me_ before they decided to enter Taylor’s name, this thing would not have happened.” “I’m glad it _did_ happen,” laughed Carrington. “The chances are that even Norton would have beaten Danforth, and then the governor could not have interfered.” Carrington’s gaze became grim as he looked at the judge. “You are prepared to go the limit in this case, I suppose?” he interrogated. “There is a chance that Taylor and his friends will attempt to make trouble. But any trouble is to be handled firmly, you understand. There is to be no monkey business. If they accept the law’s mandates, as all law-abiding citizens should accept it, all well and good. And if they don’t—and they want trouble, we’ll give them that! Understand?” “Perfectly,” smiled the judge. “The law is not to be assailed.” Smilingly he bowed Carrington out. Carrington took a turn down the street, walking until his cigar burned itself out; then he entered the hotel and sat for a time in the lobby. Then he went to bed, satisfied that he had done a good week’s work, and conscious that he had launched a heavy blow at the man for whom he had conceived a great and bitter hatred. CHAPTER XI—“NO FUN FOOLING HER” Accompanied by Martha, who rode one of the horses Parsons had bought, Marion Harlan began her trip to the Arrow shortly after dawn. The girl had said nothing to Parsons regarding her meeting with Taylor the previous day, nor of her intention to pass the day at the Arrow. For she feared that Parsons might make some objection—and she wanted to go. That she feared her uncle’s deterrent influence argued that she was aware that she was doing wrong in going to the Arrow—even with Martha as chaperon; but that was, perhaps, the very reason the thought of going engaged her interest. She wondered many times, as she rode, with the negro woman trailing her, if there was not inherent in her some of those undesirable traits concerning which the good people of Westwood had entertained fears.