Sergeant Bagby nodded as if this theory was a perfectly satisfactory one to him. A little pause fell. The Sergeant reached backward to a remote and difficult hip pocket and after two unsuccessful efforts, he fished out what appeared to be a bit of warped planking.
“They're tearing away the old Sanders place,” he confessed somewhat sheepishly, “and I stopped in by there as I come down and fetched away this here little piece of clapboard for a sort of keepsake. You recollect, Judge, that was where Forrest made his headquarters that day when we raided back into town here? Lawsy, what a surprise old Bedford did give them Yankees. But shucks, that was Bedford's specialty—surprises.” He stopped and cocked his whity-gray head toward the door hopefully.
“Listen yonder, that must be Herman Felsburg comin' up the steps now. Maybe Doctor Lake is with him. Weather or no weather, niggers or no niggers, it's mighty hard to keep them two away from a regular meetin' of the Camp.”
But the step outside was too light a step and too peart for Mr. Felsburg's. It was Ed Gafford who shoved his head in.
“Judge Priest,” he stated, “you're wanted on the telephone right away. They said they had to speak to you in person.”
The Sergeant waited, with what patience he could, while the Judge stumped down the long flights, and after a little, stumped back again. His legs were quivering under him and it was quite a bit before he quit blowing and panting. When he did speak, there was a reluctant tone in his voice.
“It's from Herman's house,” he said. “He won't be with us tonight. He—he's had a kind of a stroke—fell right smack on the floor as he was puttin' on his hat to come down here. 'Twas his daughter had me on the telephone—the married one. They're afraid it's paralysis—seems like he can't move one side and only mumbles, sort of tongue tied, she says, when he tried to talk. But I reckin it ain't nowhere near as serious as they think for.”
“No suh,” agreed the Sergeant, “Herman's good for twenty year yit. I bet you he jest et something that didn't agree with him. He'll be up and goin' in a week—see if he ain't. But say, that means Doctor Lake won't be here neither, don't it?”
“Well, that's a funny thing,” said the old Judge, “I pointedly asked her what he said about Herman, and she mumbled something about Doctor Lake's gittin' on so in life that she hated to call him out on a hot night like this. So they called in somebody else. She said, though, they aimed to have Lake up the first thing in the momin' unless Herman is better by then.”
“Well, I'll say this,” put in Sergeant Bagby, “she better not let him ketch her sayin' he's too old to be answerin' a call after dark. Lew Lake's got a temper, and he certainly would give that young woman a dressin' down.”