The magistrate stroked his chin as he thoughtfully mused for a few seconds. He was thinking of a story he would have to tell his wife when he went home to dinner.
"But why did you take matters into your own hands?" he asked. "You might have brought in an action for libel and receive damages."
"Receive damages! Good Lord! That's what I was afraid of. If I'd gone to law with Joe Preston I wouldn't have had a ghost of a chance, an' you know it. So that's why I was anxious fer Joe to receive all the damages straight from my shoulder, an' with my special compliments. He's welcome to sich damages, an' I guess they're the only kind he understands."
"Perhaps your damages are yet to come," was the magistrate's reminder. "Mr. Preston is not likely to forget the injuries he has received, that is, providing he recovers."
A startled expression came into Abner's eyes at these words.
"Won't he recover?" he asked. "He's not as bad as that, is he?"
"The doctors are not certain, so I understand. Preston received a nasty blow on the head when he fell against the desk. If he doesn't get better it will go hard with you. But there, I guess that is all for to-day. I shall have to remand you. I am sorry, but I cannot help it."
"Surely ye'r not goin' to send me back to that hole agin, are ye?" Abner anxiously asked. "Why it's not a fit place fer a dog, let alone a human bein'. There's a drunken brute in the cell next to mine who's cuttin' up pretty lively."
"I can't help it, Mr. Andrews. You'll have to stay there unless you get someone to bail you out."
"Bail me out! Good heavens! De ye think I'm a leaky old boat, or a tub, an' need to be baled out?"