“I think,” said Jim, slowly, “that what brought me here was a vague sort of hope of finding a friend. When a fellow’s up against a fight he feels lonesome. He likes to know there’s somebody besides himself to depend on. I had no reason to expect it—quite the contrary, perhaps. Anyhow, I believe you could help me with this particular problem if you wanted to.”
“Young feller, a justice of the peace has a heap of duties, some set down in the statutes and some that just come nat’ral. I’ve been justice more ’n thirty year, and I calc’late them duties that no legislature ever thought up is the most important. F’r instance, I married Kitty Fox and Pliny Hearter. That was consid’able of a transaction; but it was consid’able more of one to git ’em back to lovin’ and trustin’ after they’d started runnin’ round for a lawyer to git ’em a divorce. The law don’t give me the right to do quite a stretch of the meddlin’ I do; but it sort of appertains to this here office, and I do it. You don’t want nothin’ of me that’s printed in law-books. So far’s bein’ your friend—why, I hain’t makin’ no sich agreements. Friends hain’t made by writin’ out contracts to that effect. I hain’t seen enough of you to git to yearnin’ over you. But I’ll ease your mind some on one p’int—I hain’t actively concerned to do you no harm. Also, I hain’t got no prejudices ag’in you.”
Jim shrugged his shoulders. “It was a ridiculous sort of notion for me to come like this, without any idea what I wanted. I need help, but what kind of help I don’t know. Anyhow, I’m glad you’re not with the enemy, whoever they are.”
“You mentioned names—on suspicion. One of the onhealthiest habits a man ever got into. I’ve knowed folks to die of it. You’ve figgered out for yourself who’s after your pelt, and why. But you hain’t got no more proof than ol’ man Simpkins had when he wanted me to git leetle Georgie Reed up before me for stealin’ melons. The ol’ man missed a big melon—next day Georgie was bein’ doctored for stummick-ache. ’Twa’n’t out of reason. It was evidence I was willin’ to weigh and pass on in private. I calc’late Georgie et that melon. But as a court of law I couldn’t do nothin’ but declare Simpkins ’u’d have to show plainer proofs. That’s your fix. But, young feller, if I was you I calc’late I’d kinder keep my specs wiped clean and I wouldn’t let my hair grow down over my ears to speak of. G’-by.”