"I'll be very glad to," Angus told him gratefully.

"All right. And, Angus, I'm going to give you a word of advice, which may sound strange from me. Never drink. Never start. Not only not now, but five years hence, nor ten, nor thirty, nor forty."

"I don't intend to," Angus said, in surprise. "I don't think I'd ever drink much. There isn't anything in it, it seems to me."

"You're wrong," the judge told him gravely. "You know nothing about it.

In youth there is pleasure in it, and good fellowship that warms the heart, and bright eyes and soft lips--which you know nothing about yet--and dreams of ambition and temporary equality with the G.o.ds; and later in life there are the faces and voices of old friends, of men and women dead before their time, and the golden past and golden youth leaps and lives again, and the present is forgotten. And at last--Do you know what there is at last, Angus?"

"No, sir," said the boy with equal gravity. "What is there?"

"d.a.m.nation!" the judge replied slowly. "d.a.m.nation, deep and living. The d.a.m.nation of those who knowing the better have chosen the worse; who living the worse can yet see the better and the great gulf fixed between. The h.e.l.l of the hereafter--phutt!" And the judge snapped his fingers.

The boy stared at him wonderingly. The judge interpreted his thought.

"The gulf is fixed, because the will, which is the only thing that can bridge it, is the first thing to be destroyed. Where there is no will to fight there is no fight. And you think, too, that this advice comes strangely from me. But who can speak with greater authority--I, or the man who never took a drink in his life?"

"You, of course," Angus admitted.

"Yes, I," said the judge. "And I tell you who are on the threshold of manhood to let liquor alone; not because there is nothing in it, as you say in your ignorance, but because there are most things--or the semblance of most things--in it that the heart of man desires. Remember not to prove these things. That's all I have to say on the subject. And now clear out, for I am busy."

But when Angus had gone the judge did not appear to be very busy. He filled a disreputable old pipe with a somewhat shaky hand, and lighting it pa.s.sed into a period of reflection. At the end of it he put on his hat and proceeded up the street to Mr. Braden's office.

Mr. Braden, spick and span and freshly shaven, enjoying a very good cigar, looked with surprise and some distaste at the rumpled, unpressed clothes, unshaven cheeks and untidy hair of the old lawyer. He had little or no use for him.

"And what is it this morning, judge?" he asked.

"Mackay estate," said the judge.

Mr. Braden's eyes closed a little.

"Yes, I know you drew Mackay's will," he admitted, "but Crosby and Parks do all my business, and of course--"

"Wrong foot," said the judge, "I'm not asking for any of your business, Braden. Angus Mackay tells me you were speaking of renting the ranch, and he wanted to know if you had the power to do it."

"Of course I have," Mr. Braden a.s.serted. "The boy--"

"I told him," the judge went on, "that whether you had the power or not, it was most unlikely that you would exercise it."

"What do you know about it?" Mr. Braden demanded brusquely.

"Not a great deal just yet; but enough to tell him that."

"Well, that may be your personal opinion. I haven't made up my mind yet.

But if I consider it in the interests of the estate to rent the ranch to a competent man I shall most certainly do so."

"Poole a competent man?" the judge queried.

"I believe so. What do you know about him?"

"Not a great deal--yet," the judge returned again. "What makes you think it would be best to rent the place--to a competent man?"

"Under the circ.u.mstances I should think it would be obvious."

"If it is obvious why isn't your mind made up?"

"Look here," Mr. Braden snapped, "you aren't cross-examining me, Riley!"

The judge smiled blandly, but somehow the smile reminded Mr. Braden of the engaging facial expression of a scarred old Airedale.

"Perhaps you'll explain the obvious, Braden."

"I don't know why I should explain anything to you. I don't recognize your right to ask me any questions whatever."

"Pshaw!" said the judge. "Think a little, Braden."

Whatever Mr. Braden thought he saw fit to adopt a different tone.

"Just look at the situation from my standpoint," he said. "By their father's untimely death these children are thrown on the world with no ready money whatever. Their only source of income is the ranch, which they are too young and inexperienced to make pay. The only sensible thing to do is to put it into the hands of some competent man, so that it will yield a steady income. Isn't that common sense?"

"As you state it--yes," the judge admitted.

"Ha, of course it is," said Mr. Braden triumphantly. "Then as to the children themselves, I feel my responsibility. They must not be allowed to grow up wild like--er--cayuses, as it were. They must have an education to fit them for the Battle of Life, and as you know they can't get that at a country school. The rental of the ranch, plus the proceeds of a sale of some of the stock could not be better employed than in sending them to some first-cla.s.s inst.i.tution. In these days education is the right of every child. It is the key to Success, which, when Opportunity knocks at the door--What the devil are you grinning at?"

"Go on."

"Well, that's all I was going to say," said Mr. Braden whose wings of fancy had suddenly dragged before the old lawyer's cynical smile. "Rent the place; get money; apply the money to educate the children. That's it in a nutsh.e.l.l. Any court would approve such action of an executor."

"Possibly--on an _ex parte_ application. But meantime who pays the mortgage?"

"Mortgage?" said Mr. Braden.

"The mortgage Adam Mackay made to you on the ranch to obtain money to enable him to buy timber limits which were subsequently fire-swept.

That's subsisting, isn't it?"

"Certainly it is." There was a shade of defiance in Mr. Braden's tone.

"I hope I am not a harsh creditor. The interest might run along and all the rental go toward educating the children."

"Very creditable to your heart," said the judge. "But practically the result would be that the interest would acc.u.mulate and compound, and that when these young people had received the education which is the key to Success the property would be saddled with a very heavy enc.u.mbrance, more, in fact, than they might care to a.s.sume."

"Well," snapped Mr. Braden, "what would you have me do? Insist on my interest and rob these poor children of their chance of life?"

"Very hard situation, isn't it?" said the judge blandly. "It is just as well to look it in the face, though. If, some years hence, the children couldn't pay off these mortgage arrears the property would have to be sold. In fact you might be forced to buy it in to protect yourself."

"Do you suggest--"

"I don't suggest anything. Let us look at another angle of it. Suppose the place is rented and a crop or two fails and the lessee proves incompetent. Then the time comes when, to educate the children, the property, or some of it, must be sold. Again you might be forced to buy it in to protect yourself."

"I don't want the ranch," Mr. Braden said.