“Well, if he ain’t standin’ in with the marshal, what does he—” began Andy’s high-pitched boyish voice, when somebody called, “Good evening,” in pleasant tones, and Bonbright himself got off a light-stepping mule, tethered him to the fence, and came toward the cabin.
He had just returned from a meeting of the County Court at Hepzibah, where he did good service in representing the needs of his district, fighting hard for more money for schools—the plan heretofore had been to let them have only their own pro rata of the school tax.
“It’ll pay you a heap better to educate the mountain people than to hire their keep in jail,” he said to his fellow justices of the valley. “The blue-backed speller is the best cure for crime in the mountains that I know of.”
He failed to get this; but he succeeded in another matter, one less near his heart, but calculated to appeal perhaps more strongly to his constituents; he secured the opening of a highway for which the people in the two Turkey Tracks had struggled and prayed more than twenty years. It was with the pride of this victory strong in him that he had set out for Judith’s play-party. The young fellow might have been pardoned a half wistful belief that this first success was the entering wedge and would lead swiftly to that standing with his neighbours lacking which he was helpless. Yet the sons of the house replied but gruffly to his greeting, and, as though his coming had been a signal, the younger group promptly disappeared in the direction of the main cabin.
At the old man’s hearty invitation, Creed seated himself on the doorstep, while his host went in for a coal from the smouldering hearth to light his pipe, and joined the guest a moment later.
“Well sir, and how’s the law coming on these days?” inquired old Jephthah somewhat humorously.
“I reckon it’s doing pretty well,” allowed Creed. “The law’s all right, Mr. Turrentine; it’s what our people need; and if there comes any failure it’s bound to be in me, not in the law.”
“That’s right,” old Jephthah commended him. “Stand up for yo’ principles. Ef you go into a thing, back it. I never could get on with these here good-Lord-good-devil folks. I like to know whar a man’s at—cain’t hit him unless ’n you do.”
“That’s what I say,” piped Jim Cal’s reedy voice from the interior. “Is it true that you’ve done made up the Shalliday fuss over that thar cow, Creed? I thort a jestice of the peace was to he’p folks have fusses, place o’ settlin’ ’em up.”
“That’s what everybody seems to think,” replied Creed rather dolefully. “I can’t say I’m very proud of my part in the Shalliday matter. It seemed to be mighty hard on the widow; but the law was on her brother-in-law’s side; so I gave my decision in favour of Bill Shalliday, and paid the woman for the cow. And now they’re both mad at me.”