his old-fashioned self again, buttoned his coat, pulled out his shirt
frill, and strutted back to his desk.
A day or two later it was known throughout the town that Zaidee Hooker
had sued Adoniram Hotchkiss for breach of promise, and that the damages
were laid at five thousand dollars. As in those bucolic days the Western
press was under the secure censorship of a revolver, a cautious tone of
criticism prevailed, and any gossip was confined to personal expression,
and even then at the risk of the gossiper. Nevertheless, the situation
provoked the intensest curiosity. The Colonel was approached--until
his statement that he should consider any attempt to overcome his
professional secrecy a personal reflection withheld further advances.
The community were left to the more ostentatious information of the
defendant's counsel, Messrs. Kitcham and Bilser, that the case was
"ridiculous" and "rotten," that the plaintiff would be nonsuited, and
the fire-eating Starbottle would be taught a lesson that he could not
"bully" the law, and there were some dark hints of a conspiracy. It was
even hinted that the "case" was the revengeful and preposterous outcome
of the refusal of Hotchkiss to pay Starbottle an extravagant fee for his
late services to the Ditch Company. It is unnecessary to say that these
words were not reported to the Colonel. It was, however, an unfortunate
circumstance for the calmer, ethical consideration of the subject that
the Church sided with Hotchkiss, as this provoked an equal adherence
to the plaintiff and Starbottle on the part of the larger body of
non-churchgoers, who were delighted at a possible exposure of the
weakness of religious rectitude. "I've allus had my suspicions o' them
early candle-light meetings down at that gospel shop," said one critic,
"and I reckon Deacon Hotchkiss didn't rope in the gals to attend jest
for psalm-singing." "Then for him to get up and leave the board afore
the game's finished and try to sneak out of it," said an other,--"I
suppose that's what they call RELIGIOUS."
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