True to his promise, the Colonel called on Judge Moore bright and early the following morning. “Act Three of that little business drama entitled 'The Valley of the Giants,' my dear Judge,” he announced pleasantly. “I play the lead in this act. You remember me, I hope. I played a bit in Act Two.”
“In so far as my information goes, sir, you've been cut out of the cast in Act Three. I don't seem to find any lines for you to speak.”
“One line, Judge, one little line. What profit does your client want on that quarter-section?”
“That quarter-section is not in the market, Colonel. When it is, I'll send for you, since you're the only logical prospect should my client decide to sell. And remembering how you butted in on politics in this county last fall and provided a slush-fund to beat me and place a crook on the Superior Court bench, in order to give you an edge in the many suits you are always filing or having filed against you, I rise to remark that you have about ten split seconds in which to disappear from my office. If you linger longer, I'll start throwing paper-weights.” And as if to emphasize his remark, the Judge's hand closed over one of the articles in question.
The Colonel withdrew with what dignity he could muster.
CHAPTER XXI
Upon his return from the office that night, Bryce Cardigan found his father had left his bed and was seated before the library fire.
“Feeling a whole lot better to-day, eh, pal?” his son queried.