The Land of Strong Men Part 5

"I dunno," Rennie admitted. "If I was you I'd go and have a talk with old Judge Riley, like your daddy told you to do if anything come up. You may catch him sober. Not," he added, "that the old boy ain't pretty wise when he's drunk."

CHAPTER IV

JUDGE RILEY--DRUNK AND SOBER

"Judge" Riley had once been on the bench, but for some reason had resigned and gone back to his profession, hanging out his s.h.i.+ngle in Mowbray. There was no doubt of his natural and professional ability, but it was the inability to let liquor alone, even when business demanded attention. Hence he had little of the latter.

He was not sober when Angus entered his untidy little office. At Angus'

entrance he stared up with dull eyes from beneath a thick thatch of gray hair which had fallen across his forehead like a horse's forelock. For a moment he had difficulty in identifying his visitor, but succeeded.

"Angus," he muttered, "sure, yes, Angus Mackay. Sit down, Angus. And how is your father?"

"My father is dead, Judge Riley," Angus reminded him.

"Dead!" said the judge, "dead!" His voice altered at the repet.i.tion of the word, and his eyes lost a little of their dullness. "Why, I knew that," he muttered to himself, "I knew Mackay was dead. I--I beg your pardon, Angus. Not--not exactly right just now. A little--a little touch of something. All right, presently."

"I'll come in again," Angus said. "I wanted to see you on business."

"Bus'ness?" the judge queried. "Always 'tend to bus'ness. Not so much of it now. State your bus'ness."

Though he did not see much use in doing so in the judge's condition, Angus told him what had happened and asked what powers the executor possessed.

"Exec'tor governed by will," the judge told him. "Never give 'pinion on written instrument without seeing instrument."

"You drew the will yourself, judge--at least it has your name on it."

"Good will, then," said the judge, "perfec'ly good will."

"There's nothing in it about renting the place."

"Exec'tor's powers broad," said the judge. "Gen'ral law of trustees.

Governed by will, though. Princ'ples governing construction of will--"

But just then the judge was in no condition to enunciate them. His voice trailed off into a murmur and his head dropped.

"I'll come in again," said Angus, "and pay for your advice. What do you charge, judge?"

"Charge!" muttered the judge lifting his head. "Charge, Chester, charge!

On, Stan--"

"Your fee," Angus interrupted.

"Oh, fee!" said the judge. "Yes, fee. Very proper. Fund'mental princ'ple of law, never neglect fee. Fifty dollars!"

"Fifty dollars!" Angus gasped.

"Merely nom'nal fee," the judge murmured. "Avoid lit'gation, young man, 'void lit'gation!" And his head fell forward and he slept.

Disappointed in obtaining legal advice from the judge, Angus left his office. He was determined, however, to know where he stood, and two days afterward he entered the judge's office again. This time the judge was sober and busy.

"Glad to see you, Angus," he greeted cheerfully, "sit down and have a chat."

Angus sat down and, taking fifty dollars in bills from his pocket, handed the money across the desk. The judge did not take it. He frowned at the tenderer.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"Your fee," Angus explained.

"For what?"

"For telling me what I want to know."

"Indeed!" rasped the judge. "And how the devil do you know that I can or will tell you what you want to know? And who gave you the authority to fix my fee?"

"You fixed it yourself," Angus reminded him. "When I was here two days ago you told me your fee for advice was fifty dollars; and now I have brought the money for the advice."

A dull color rose in the old lawyer's cheeks.

"You mean I was too drunk to give it," he said. "I remember that you were here, but nothing about fifty dollars. Put it back in your pocket, and tell me what you want to know."

"But I want to pay for what I get."

"Well, you won't," the judge snapped.

"Why not?"

"Because I regulate my own charges," the judge told him. "I've enjoyed your father's hospitality and yours, and not a cent would you Mackays ever accept for the time you lost, or for the hire of horses or their feed, or mine. d.a.m.ned proud Highland Scotch, that must always give and never take! Put your money in your pocket, I tell you, and let me know what's worrying you."

So, seeing that he meant it, Angus put his money back and stated his case.

"H'm," said the judge. "So Braden wants to rent the ranch, does he, and sell some stock. Under certain circ.u.mstances that might be expedient. An executor's powers are broad enough, within certain limits, which you probably wouldn't understand. But what do you want to do yourself? What do you think is the best thing for you and your sister and brother?"

"I want to stay on the ranch. I can make a living there. Jean and Turkey are going to school now, and it will be some years before they are through with it. Then it will be time enough to think of another school."

"How about yourself?" the judge queried. "You are at the age when you should be laying the foundations of more education if you are to get it at all."

"I have thought of that," Angus replied, "and I do not think I have the head for books, like Jean. I might spend years learning things that might be well enough to know, perhaps, but of no real use to make a living, which is what I have to do. And meanwhile the ranch would be run down and the ground be worked out and dirty with weeds. And then there is my promise to my father. I am taking his place as well as I can; and that place is on the ranch."

"I see," said the judge thoughtfully. "You may be right, my boy. Many a good rancher has been spoilt to make a poor something else. The professions are crowded with failures. But let's go back to the point: Whether Braden has or has not the power to rent the ranch and sell stock, is immaterial so long as it is not done. I will see him, and I think I can explain the situation to him perhaps more clearly than you can. How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Angus replied. "I wish I was older."

The judge looked at him and sighed. "Believe this," he said; "that when you are older--much older--you will wish much more and just as vainly to be eighteen. It's three years before you come of age. Even then--" He broke off and for a moment was silent. "Angus, you are a close-mouthed boy. If in the future you have any trouble with Braden, or if he or anybody else makes you any proposition involving the ranch, will you come to me with it?"