“Some letters, yes,� the younger man admitted, without emotion, “from cranks, I fancy.�
“No,� said the judge flatly, “there’s feeling. Some of these ignorant people have got a notion that your campaign against Eaton, your attack on his company, destroyed his credit and drove him to the wall. They’ve got the idea that he’d have saved himself, and their investments, if you’d let him be. They’re wild about it; money loss goes to the quick, when a man can’t pay for his bacon he wants a scapegoat. The better sort know it’s not your doing, and, I’ll say it for ’em, the newspapers have been decent, but there’s feeling, Caleb; you’d better go armed.�
Caleb laughed. “Judge, I was bred a Quaker. I only used my pistol here in self-defense; I never went out with one in my pocket in my life.�
The judge rubbed his chin. “You’d better now,� he remarked shortly.
Caleb leaned back in his chair and looked out of the window thoughtfully. “I wonder what my father would have said to his son carrying weapons?� he reflected, amused.
“Good deal better than to get a hole in you,� the judge retorted; “you know how to use it!�
Trench colored. “My blood was up, Judge,� he said, “a mob’s a cowardly thing; I never felt such disgust in my life.�
“Humph!� ejaculated the judge eloquently.
Caleb smiled involuntarily. “I don’t think there’s any danger,� he said pleasantly.
“Of course not!� snapped the judge. “Trench, why don’t you clear up this talk about that kid in yonder? Cheyney knows who the father is; make him tell. By the Lord Harry,� he added, thumping the table with his fist, “I wanted it out in court.�