It was easy work for the sleepy stenographer.
"I understand. I don't want to go off my head again before I finish. Of
course I know why you want this. If it were only for myself I should tell
you nothing, because, if I am to leave, I should like it better if no one
were punished. But that's a bad community over there; they are
everlastingly worrying our people; they have always been a bother to us,
and it's time it was stopped for good. I don't believe very much in
punishment, but you can't do a great deal of reforming with the Cross-
Roaders unless you catch them young--very young, before they're weaned--
they wean them on whiskey, I think. I realize you needn't have sworn me
for me to tell you this."
Homer and Smith had started at the mention of the Cross-Roads, but they
subdued their ejaculations, while Mr. Barrett looked as if he had known
it, of course. The room was still, save for the dim voice and the soft
transcribings of the stylographic pen.
"I left Judge Briscoe's, and went west on the pike to a big tree. It
rained, and I stepped under the tree for shelter. There was a man on the
other side of the fence. It was Bob Skillett. He was carrying his gown and
hood--I suppose it was that--on his arm. Then I saw two others a little
farther east, in the middle of the road; and I think they had followed me
from the Briscoes', or near there.
Pages:
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236