you air entitled to practise in this court with my permission."
Bob bowed deferentially: "I thank you."
The judge's hand executed a magnanimous flourish, and Fritz Poth pinched himself. Could that imposing personage, so severe and profound that the most audacious dared not address him familiarly, be the same that he had ejected from his hotel the night before for retiring with his boots on?
The judge raised the pitcher to his lips, removed the moisture with the back of his hand, and tapped sharply on the plank with the ax-handle:
"This here court will come to order—pronto!"
Silence fell.
"The jury will come to the front and set on this bench as I reads off their names. Old Man Hathaway!"
Ben leaned and whispered to Bob as a shifty-eyed person rose expectantly and shuffled forward.
"Challenge!" Bob called peremptorily.
Surprise was everywhere.
"Who you challenging, young feller?" in-
