The deep color came into the big man's moody face once more. He waved a hand. "You mustn't talk of that," said he. "I reckon I owe you that much and more—a lot more. I'm not done yet. I've done what I thought was right. But as for the case, I didn't fight it, and I didn't win it—the Judge and I, we just didn't make any fight at all, that's all. We settled it out of court, on terms that suited him, anyhow. I'm sorry for Blackman,—he was just honing to soak that boy the limit! Your boy, Aurora—that ought to have stayed dead, I'm afraid, but didn't.
"But peace and dignity," he added—"listen to me—we'll make a Sabbath school out of this town yet! I can't talk very much more now."
With a great uproarious laugh, somewhat nervous, very much perturbed, he raised his hat clumsily, turned upon his heel clumsily, and would have walked off clumsily. An exclamation from Miss Julia stopped him.
"Where's Don?" asked she. "And what's that over yonder—what does the crowd mean?" She pointed down to the corner of the courthouse square, where indeed a closely packed group was thrusting this way and that, apparently about some center of interest.
"Oh, that?" said Hod Brooks, carelessly, turning his gaze thither; "that's nothing. Pray don't be excited—it's only my—my client, carrying out the last of my legal instructions to him."
"But what does it mean?" demanded Aurora Lane in sudden terror—"what's going on there? Is there more trouble?"
Hod Brooks broke off a spear of grass from its place between the sidewalk and the fence, and meditatively began to chew it.
"Oh, no, I think not," said he gently. "I don't think the boy will have much trouble. He's doing what I counseled him to do."
"What have you told him—what is he doing—what does it all mean?" demanded Aurora Lane.
"Nothing," said the big man, still gazing ruminatingly at the scene beyond. "As a member of the bar I was bound to give him such counsel as should be of most practical benefit to him—I swore that in my oath of admission to the bar. So I told him that as soon as court was adjourned he ought to take old Eph Adamson and thrash him this time good and proper. I told him nothing would come of it if he did. I told him it was his plain duty to do it, and if he didn't do it I'd do it myself, because the dogs have got to be put to sleep again now in this town.... I must say," he added, "I am inclined to believe that my client is following his instructions to the letter!" After which Hod Brooks strolled on away.