Bob averted the impending anger with a soft chuckle.
"I wouldn't want the job!" said he. "But if they had the courts with
them, they'd get you off. You can drive those rangers up a tree quick
enough (_"You know that isn't so!" cried Amy at the subsequent
recital._), but this is a Federal matter, and they'll send troops
against you, if necessary."
"My lawyer----" began Samuels.
"May be dead right, or he _may_ enjoy a legal battle at the other man's
expense," put in Bob. "The previous cases are all dead against him; and
they're the only ammunition."
"It's a-gittin' cold," said Samuels, rising abruptly. "Let's git
inside!"
Bob followed him to the main room of the cabin where the mountaineer lit
a tallow candle stuck in the neck of a bottle.
"Oh, pa, come to bed!" called a sleepy voice, "and quit your
palavering."
"Shet up!" commanded Samuels, setting the candle in the middle of the
table, and seating himself by it. "Ain't there no decisions the other
way?"
"I'm no lawyer," Bob pointed out, dropping into a stool on the other
side, so that the candle stood between them, "and my opinion is of no
value"--the old man grunted what might have been assent, or a mere
indication of attention--"but as far as I know, there have been none.
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