“Say!” called Gabriel after him; “did you ever hear of ol’ Isra’l Pidgin?”
“Oh, yes!” was the quick reply, “he was an idiot that lived up in York State.”
“Yes. ’Member wut he said about the feller ’at goes ’round with a chip on ’is shoulder lookin’ fer somebody to knock it off?”
Nicholson did not reply.
“Well,” continued Gabriel, “he says, says ’e, ‘that feller’s lucky ef ’e don’t git ’is shoulder put out o’ jint a gittin’ of the chip knocked off,’ says ’e.”
But Nicholson had disappeared. He was pushing his way down the winding staircase, satisfied that, in the estimation of the crowd, he was no match for Gabriel, and anxious to escape. In the lower hall he met Charlie Pickett. He went up to him with outstretched hand, for he was generous as well as impetuous.
“Pickett,” he said, “if I made any fool remarks on the witness stand to-day reflecting on you in any way, I want to ask your pardon. You know there’s no man in the profession, nor anywhere else, for that matter, whom I esteem more highly than I do you. My quick tongue always did get me into no end of trouble, and I’m afraid it always will. It wasn’t two minutes ago that I was crushed in repartee by that wise fool from Pickett’s Gap, Gabriel, by name. But, Pickett, say! whose idea was that moonlight survey, anyway? It was a genuine coup-d’état.”
“Oh, that was Wilson’s scheme. Our chief, you know. He knew that you were running along the westerly bank of the Delaware that afternoon and that a location by us next day would be too late. We didn’t dream that you would get through the gap that night. I didn’t dream that you had been through it when I went down in the moonlight. If I had seen your stakes there, I should more than likely have turned back.”
“Well, it’s lucky for your people that you didn’t see them, then. For the only hope you have, the way the matter stands now, is in the theory that your board was the first to adopt the location. But that was a strange thing, wasn’t it, about that boy pulling out the stakes? It wasn’t a mere dare-devil adventure, you understand. It was done conscientiously in order that justice—from his standpoint—might prevail. Took some courage to go down through that gap in the night-time you know, and pull out that line of stakes. But, talk about grit and moral heroism! did you ever see or hear of anything equal to that boy coming down from Pickett’s Gap, through a world of drifted snow, and going on the stand, voluntarily, to swear himself into jail just to set us right on the matter of the stakes, and to do justice to you? Say, it was magnificent! If I had a boy like him, I’d keep him with me day and night, just for the inspiration.”
“Yes? I’m glad to hear you say that. He’s my boy, Nicholson. You didn’t know that, did you?”