Hal did not look back, but turned into the company-store. “North Valley Trading Company” read the sign over the door; within was a Serbian woman pointing out what she wanted to buy, and two little Lithuanian girls watching the weighing of a pound of sugar. Hal strolled up to the person who was doing the weighing, a middle-aged man with a yellow moustache stained with tobacco-juice. “Morning, Judge.”
“Huh!” was the reply from Silas Adams, justice of the peace in the town of North Valley.
“Judge,” said Hal, “what do you think about the election?”
“I don't think about it,” said the other. “Busy weighin' sugar.”
“Anybody round here going to vote for MacDougall?”
“They better not tell me if they are!”
“What?” smiled Hal. “In this free American republic?”
“In this part of the free American republic a man is free to dig coal, but not to vote for a skunk like MacDougall.” Then, having tied up the sugar, the “J. P.” whittled off a fresh chew from his plug, and turned to Hal. “What'll you have?”
Hal purchased half a pound of dried peaches, so that he might have an excuse to loiter, and be able to keep time with the jaws of the Judge. While the order was being filled, he seated himself upon the counter. “You know,” said he, “I used to work in a grocery.”
“That so? Where at?”