The cautious steps continued to approach. Some one paused below the closely shuttered window, and a hand struck the boards sharply. A whisper stole into the jail.
“Are you awake, Price?” It was Mahaffy who spoke.
“God bless you, Solomon Mahaffy!” cried the judge unsteadily.
“I've got the boy—he's with me,” said Mahaffy.
“God bless you both!” repeated the judge brokenly. “Take care of him, Solomon. I feel better now, knowing he's in good hands.”
“Please, Judge—” it was Hannibal
“Yes, dear lad?”
“I'm mighty sorry that ten dollars I loaned you was bad—but you don't need ever to pay it back!”
Mahaffy gave way to mirth.
“Never mind!” said the judge indulgently. “It performed all the essential functions of a perfectly legal currency. Just suppose we had discovered it was counterfeit before I took it to the tavern—that would have been a hardship!”