"Nothin', I guess."
"Well, what the devil did yeh come in here for?" he inquired, with a glare of astonishment. "Want 'o buy a dog?"
Bradley was mad. "I came because Radbourn sent me. I c'n git out agin, mighty quick."
The Judge took down his heels. "Oh, you're that young orator. Why didn't yeh say so, you damned young Indian?" He now rose and walked over to the spittoon before going on. Bradley knew that this rough tone was entirely different from the first. It was a sort of affectionate blackguardism. "I heard you speak last Friday. All you need, young man, is a chance to swing y'r elbows. You want room according to y'r strength, but you never'd find it in the Republican party. It's struck with the palsy."
The judge had been talking this for two presidential campaigns and didn't take himself at all seriously.
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know, yet."
"Do you want 'o study law?"
"I don't know, sir. Do you think I can be a lawyer?"
"If you're not too damned honest. If you want 'o try it, I'll make an arrangement with you, that will be better than sawing wood anyhow, this winter, and you can keep right on with your studies. We'll see what can be done next year."