“No.”
“Think I’m too old, Jim, eh? Past my usefulness?”
“You’re the best man of all of us. That’s why—”
Zaanan’s eyes twinkled for a moment, then he bent his head in an attitude of weariness, “Folks is tired of me, Jim. They calc’late I’ve outstayed my welcome. Noticed that, Jim, eh?”
“They’ve been bamboozled into thinking it, or paid to think it.”
“But they think it, all the same. Any reason I shouldn’t give ’em a chance to run their logs without me? See why I shouldn’t git a minnit’s peace and quiet at the tail end of my life, eh? Specially when folks is anxious I should?”
“Yes, Judge, I do see a reason. These are your people. You’ve made them what they are. You’ve looked after them for years and, maybe, because you’ve looked after them so thoroughly and well, they are less able to look after themselves than they should be. You’re responsible for them. Nobody but you can save them and this town from passing into a condition that will be intolerable. You aren’t entitled to rest. You’ve got to get into this fight—and win.”
“Perty late, hain’t it, Jim? Perty late in the day?”
“We’ll just have to work that much harder.”
“Dun’no’s I kin agree with you, Jim. Seems to me time’s too short. Maybe I should ’a’ fought, but there wa’n’t much encouragement. Folks was flockin’ to Peleg. Shouldn’t wonder if a dose of Peleg ’u’d be the thing to cure ’em.”