But his sharp yellow eyes clearly saw that Gasbang and Mathews were the only ones really anxious to be aggressive, yet aggressive only according to the natural bent of their dispositions. Mathews was unscrupulous, vicious and murderous; Gasbang, unscrupulous, vicious and cowardly—he would use no weapons but the legal trickery of Roper, aided by the indulgence of Judge Lawlack's friendship. In fact, Judge Lawlack was a host in himself, and when that host was led on to battle by the loquacious Roper against clients who had only justice and equity on their side, everybody knew that Roper's brow would be crowned with honorable laurels of fraud and falsehood and robbery, while innocent people were cruelly despoiled and left homeless. This, however, was (according to Roper) the secret bargain between Judge Gryllus Lawlack and his favorite. This shameful debauchery of judicial power was the wages of the political factotum; and Roper unblushingly acknowledged it, and boasted of it—boasted openly, in his moments of exultation, when he had imbibed more whisky than was consistent with discretion; when he would become loquacious, and following the law of his being, which impelled him to swagger and vaunting, he longed to make known to people his “influence with the Court.” Wishing at the same time that he was facetious, to be considered a wit, he would relate several stories illustrative of his power over the Judge. One of these stories was that of two litigants, who had had a lawsuit for a long time; at last, one litigant came to the other and said:
“See here; you had better compromise this suit. Don't you see, on my side I have the law, the equity, the money and the talent?”
“Very true,” answered the other. “You have the law, the equity, the money and the talent, but I have the Judge.”
And Roper would laugh, thinking himself very funny, and with a wink would say: “Didn't I tell you I run this whole town? Of course I do, because I have the Court in my pocket. Give us another drink.” And he staggered for more whisky.
Could the Judge ignore that his name and office were thus publicly dragged in the mire? Certainly not, but he would merely remark that “Mr. Roper was joking,” seeing no disgraceful reflection upon himself.
In the full reliance of secured power, Gasbang and Roper decided that they would do nothing while the survey of the rancho was going on, but would watch and wait for developments, and then, relying upon the Judge's friendship to serve their purpose, start some plot to rob the Alamares or the Mechlins.
“Yes, we will watch and pray, brother John,” Roper said, with a nasal twang. Gasbang was a church deacon.
But Mathews had no Judge Lawlack to bedraggle justice for his sake. So while Gasbang and Roper were jubilant, he became gloomy and morose. He could not give vent to his ill humor by shooting stray cattle now; not that he liked Clarence any better than he liked the Don, but he had promised Darrell not to shoot his son's cattle, and he could not afford to break his promise and make an enemy of so useful a man as Darrell. So Mathews went back to his old love of whisky, and as his whisky was of the cheapest, burning poison circulated in his veins. Miss Mathews, his maiden sister, was seriously alarmed, observing her brother's ways of late, and would kindly remonstrate against his drinking such poor liquor.
“For you see, William, all liquor is bad, but bad liquor is worse,” the poor old maid would say, in unconscious aphorism, pleading with her hardened brother to the best of her ability.
One morning, when Mathews had been on a debauch of several days' duration, Miss Mathews walked over to Mrs. Darrell, and apologizing for not having been to see Alice, because she had had so much trouble at home, said she wished to speak to Mr. Darrell. On being told by Jane—who received her—that her father had gone to the fields where grain was being threshed, she left word that she would thank Mr. Darrell to call on her that evening. Agreeable to this request, Mr. Darrell started for Mathews' house after supper.