Law in Popular Culture Collection - E-texts 

---

A short story originally published in
The Saturday Evening Post
October 24, 1936
by
Stephen Vincent Benét
(1898-1943)

I

[13]

IT'S A STORY THEY TELL IN THE BORDER COUNTRY,
where Massachusetts joins Vermont and New
Hampshire.

    Yes, Dan'l Webster's dead-or, at least, they
buried him. But every time there's a thunder
storm around Marshfield, they say you can hear
his rolling voice in the hollows of the sky. And
they say that if you go to his grave and speak
loud and clear, "Dan'l Webster-Dan'l Web-
ster!" the ground'll begin to shiver and the trees
begin to shake. And after a while you'll hear a
deep voice saying, "Neighbor, how stands the
Union?" Then you better answer the Union

 [14]

stands as she stood, rock-bottomed and copper
sheathed, one and indivisible, or he's liable to
rear right out of the ground. At least, that's
what I was told when I was a youngster.

   You see, for a while, he was the biggest man
in the country. He never got to be President,
but he was the biggest man. There were thou-
sands that trusted in him right next to God
Almighty, and they told stories about him and
all the things that belonged to him that were
like the stories of'patriarchs and such. They said,
when he stood up to speak, stars and stripes came
right out in the sky, and once he spoke against
a river and made it sink into the ground. They
said, when he walked the woods with his fishing
rod, Killall, the trout would jump out of the
streams right into his pockets, for they knew it
was no use putting up a fight against him; and,
when he argued a case, he could turn on the
harps of the blessed and the shaking of the earth

 [15]

underground. That was the kind of man he was,
and his big farm up at Marshfield was suitable
to him. The chickens he raised were all white
meat down through the drumsticks, the cows
were tended like children, and the big ram he
called Goliath had horns with a curl like a
morning-glory vine and could butt through an
iron door. But Dan'l wasn't one of your gentle-
men farmers; he knew all the ways of the land,
and he'd be up by candlelight to see that the
chores got done. A man with a mouth like a
mastiff, a brow like a mountain and eyes like
burning anthracite-that was Dan'l Webster in
his prime. And the biggest case he argued never
got written down in the books, for he argued it
against the devil, nip and tuck and no holds
barred. And this is the way I used to hear it told.

   There was a man named Jabez Stone, lived at
Cross Corners, New Hampshire. He wasn't a
bad man to start with, but he was an unlucky
 
 

 [16]

man. If he planted corn, he got borers; if he
planted potatoes, he got blight. He had good
enough land, but it didn't prosper him; he had
a decent wife and children, but the more chil-
dren he had, the less there was to feed them. If
stones cropped up in his neighbor's field, boul-
ders boiled up in his; if he had a horse with the
spavins, he'd trade it for one with the staggers
and give something extra. There's some folks
bound to be like that, apparently. But one day
Jabez Stone got sick of the whole business.

   He'd been plowing that morning and he'd just
broke the plowshare on a rock that he could
have sworn hadn't been there yesterday. And, as
he stood looking at the plowshare, the off horse
began to cough-that ropy kind of cough that
means sickness and horse doctors. There were
two children down with the measles, his wife
was ailing, and he had a whitlow on his thumb.
It was about the last straw for Jabez Stone. "I

 [17]

vow," he said, and he looked around him kind
of desperate-"I vow it's enough to make a man
want to sell his soul to the devil And I would,
too, for two centsl"

   Then he felt a kind of queerness come over
him at having said what he'd said; though, natu-
rally, being a New Hampshireman, he wouldn't
take it back. But, all the same, when it got to be
evening and, as far as he could see, no notice
had been taken, he felt relieved in his mind, for
he was a religious man. But notice is always
taken, sooner or later, just like the Good Book
says. And, sure enough, next day, about supper
time, a soft-spoken, dark-dressed stranger drove
up in a handsome buggy and asked for Jabez
Stone.

   Well, Jabez told his family it was a lawyer,
come to see him about a legacy. But he knew
who it was. He didn't like the looks of the
stranger, nor the way he smiled with his teeth.

 [18]

   They were white teeth, and plentiful-some say
they were filed to a point, but I wouldn't vouch
for that. And he didn't like it when the dog took
one look at the stranger and ran away howling,
with his tail between his legs. But having passed
his word, more or less, he stuck to it, and they
went out behind the barn and made their bar-
gain. Jabez Stone had to prick his finger to sign,
and the stranger lent him a silver pin. The
wound healed clean, but it left a little white
scar.


 
 
II
 [21]

AFTER THAT, ALL OF A SUDDEN, THINGS BEGAN TO
pick up and prosper for Jabez Stone. His cows
got fat and his horses sleek, his crops were the
envy of the neighborhood, and lightning might
strike all over the valley, but it wouldn't strike
his barn. Pretty soon, he was one of the pros-
perous people of the county; they asked him to
stand for selectman, and he stood for it; there
began to be talk of running him for state senate.
All in all, you might say the Stone family was as
happy and contented as cats in a dairy. And so
they were, except for Jabez Stone.

 [22]

    He'd been contented enough, the first few
years. It's a great thing when bad luck turns;
it drives most other things out of your head.
True, every now and then, especially in rainy
weather, the little white scar on his finger would
give him a twinge. And once a year, punctual
as clockwork, the stranger with the handsome
buggy would come driving by. But the sixth
year, the stranger lighted, and, after that, his
peace was over for Jabez Stone.

   The stranger came up through the lower field,
switching his boots with a cane-they were hand-
some black boots, but Jabez Stone never liked
the look of them, particularly the toes. And,
after he'd passed the time of day, he said, "Well,
Mr. Stone', you're a hummer! It's a very pretty
property you've got here, Mr. Stone."

   "Well, some might favor it and others might
not," said Jabez Stone, for he was a New Hamp-
shireman.

 [23]

   "Oh, no need to decry your industryl " said the
stranger, very easy, showing his teeth in a smile.
"After all, we know what's been done, and it's
been according to contract and specifications.
So when-ahem-the mortgage falls due next
year, you shouldn't have any regrets."

   "Speaking of that mortgage, mister," said
Jabez Stone, and he looked around for help to
the earth and the sky, "I'm beginning to have
one or two doubts about it."

    "Doubts?" said the stranger, not quite so
pleasantly.

   "Why, yes," said Jabez Stone. "This being
the U. S. A. and me always having been a reli-
gious man." He cleared his throat and got bolder.

   "Yes, sir," he said, "I'm beginning to have con-
siderable doubts as to that mortgage holding in
court."

   "There's courts and courts," said the stranger,
clicking his teeth. "Still, we might as well have a

 [24]

look at the original document." And he hauled
out a big black pocketbook, full of papers.
"Sherwin, Slater, Stevens, Stone," he muttered.
"I, Jabez Stone, for a term of seven years-Oh,
it's quite in order, I think."

   But Jabez Stone wasn't listening, for he saw
something else flutter out of the black pocket
book. It was something that looked like a moth,
but it wasn't a moth. And as Jabez Stone stared
at it, it seemed to speak to him in a small sort of
piping voice, terrible small and thin, but ter-
rible human.

   "Neighbor Stone!" it squeaked. "Neighbor
Stone! Help me! For God's sake, help
me! "

    But before Jabez Stone could stir hand or
foot, the stranger whipped out a big bandanna
handkerchief, caught the creature in it, just like
a butterfly, and started tying up the ends of the
bandanna.

 [25]

    "Sorry for the interruption," he said. "As I
was saying-"

   But Jabez Stone was shaking all over like a
scared horse.

   "That's Miser Stevens' voice!" he said, in a
croak. "And you've got him in your handker-
chief! "

   The stranger looked a little embarrassed.

   "Yes, I really should have transferred him to
the collecting box," he said with a simper. "but
there were some rather unusual specimens there
and I didn't want them crowded. Well, well,
these little contretemps will occur."

    "I don't know what you mean by contertan,"
said Jabez Stone, "but that was Miser Stevens'
voice! And he ain't dead! You can't tell me he
is! He was just as spry and mean as a woodchuck,
Tuesdayl"

   "In the midst of life-" said the stranger, kind
of pious. "Listen!" Then a bell began to toll in

 [26]

the valley and Jabez Stone listened, with the
sweat running down his face. For he knew it
was tolled for Miser Stevens and that he was
dead.

   "These long-standing accounts," said the
stranger with a sigh; "one really hates to close
them. But business is business."

   He still had the bandanna in his hand, and
Jabez Stone felt sick as he saw the cloth struggle
and flutter.

   "Are they all as small as that?" he asked
hoarsely.

   "Small?" said the stranger. "Oh, I see what
you mean. Why, they vary." He measured Jabez
Stone with his eyes, and his teeth showed.
"Don't worry, Mr. Stone," he said. "You'll go
with a very good grade. I wouldn't trust you
outside the collecting box. Now, a man like
Dan'l Webster, of course-well, we'd have to
build a special box for him, and even at that, I

 [27]

imagine the wing spread would astonish you.
He'd certainly be a prize. I wish we could see
our way clear to him. But, in your case, as I was
saying-"

   "Put that handkerchief awayl" said Jabez
Stone, and he began to beg and to pray. But the
best he could get at the end was a three years'
extension, with conditions.

   But till you make a bargain like that, you've
got no idea of how fast four years can run. By
the last months of those years, Jabez Stone's
known all over the state and there's talk of run-
ning him for governor - and it's dust and ashes
in his mouth. For every day, when he gets up,
he thinks, "There's one more night gone," and
every night when he lies down, he thinks of the
black pocketbook and the soul of Miser Stevens,
and it makes him sick at heart. Till, finally, he
can't bear it any longer, and, in the last days of
the last year, he hitches his horse and drives

 [28]

off to seek Dan'l Webster. For Dan'l was born
in New Hampshire, only a few miles from Cross
Corners, and it's well known that he has a par-
ticular soft spot for old neighbors.


 
 
III
 [31]

IT WAS EARLY IN THE MORNING WHEN HE GOT TO
Marshfield, but Dan'l was up already, talking
Latin to the farm hands and wrestling with the
ram, Goliath, and trying out a new trotter and
working up speeches to make against John C.
Calhoun. But when he heard a New Hampshire
man had come to see him, he dropped every
thing else he was doing, for that was Dan'l's
way. He gave Jabez Stone a breakfast that five
men couldn't eat, went into the living history of
every man and woman in Cross Corners, and
finally asked him how he could serve him.

 [32]

   Jabez Stone allowed that it was a kind of
mortgage case.

   "Well, I haven't pleaded a mortgage case in
a long time, and I don't generally plead now,
except before the Supreme Court," said Dan'l,
"but if I can, I'll help you."

   "Then I've got hope for the first time in ten
years," said Jabez Stone, and told him the de-
tails.

   Dan'l walked up and down as he listened,
hands behind his back, now and then asking a
question, now and then plunging his eyes at the
floor, as if they'd bore through it like gimlets.
When Jabez Stone had finished, Dan'l puffed
out his cheeks and blew. Then he turned to
Jabez Stone and a smile broke over his face like
the sunrise over Monadnock.

   "You've certainly given yourself the devil's
own row to hoe, Neighbor Stone," he said, "but
I'll take your case."

 [33]

   "You'll take it?" said Jabez Stone, hardly dar-
ing to believe.

   "Yes," said Dan'l Webster. "I've got about
seventy-five other things to do and the Missouri
Compromise to straighten out, but I'll take your
case. For if two New Hampshiremen aren't a
match for the devil, we might as well give the
country back to the Indians."

   Then he shook Jabez Stone by the hand and
said, "Did you come down here in a hurry?"

"Well, I admit I made time," said Jabez
Stone.

   "You'll go back faster," said Dan'l Webster,
and he told 'em to hitch up Constitution and
Constellation to the carriage. They were matched
grays with one white forefoot, and they stepped
like greased lightning.

   Well, I won't describe how excited and pleased
the whole Stone family was to have the great
Dan'l Webster for a guest, when they finally got

 [34]

 there. Jabez Stone had lost his hat on the way,
blown off when they overtook a wind, but he
didn't take much account of that. But after sup-
per he sent the family off to bed, for he had most
particular business with Mr. Webster. Mrs.
Stone wanted them to sit in the front parlor, but
Dan'l Webster knew front parlors and said he
preferred the kitchen. So it was there they sat,
waiting for the stranger, with a jug on the table
between them and a bright fire on the hearth -
the stranger being scheduled to show up on the
stroke of midnight, according to specification.

     Well, most men wouldn't have asked for bet-
ter company than Dan'l Webster and a jug. But
with every tick of the clock Jabez Stone got
sadder and sadder. His eyes roved round, and
though he sampled the jug you could see he
couldn't taste it. Finally, on the stroke of 11:30
he reached over and grabbed Dan'l Webster by
the arm.

 [35]

    "Mr. Webster, Mr. Webster!" he said, and
his voice was shaking with fear and a desperate
courage. "For God's sake, Mr. Webster, harness
your horses and get away from this place while
you can!"

   "You've brought me a long way, neighbor, to
tell me you don't like my company," said Dan'l
Webster, quite peaceable, pulling at the jug.

   "Miserable wretch that I am!" groaned Jabez
Stone. "I've brought you a devilish way, and
now I see my folly. Let him take me if he wills.
I don't hanker after it, I must say, but I can stand
it. But you're the Union's stay and New Hamp-
shire's pride! He mustn't get you, Mr. Webster!
He mustn't get you!"

   Dan'l Webster looked at the distracted man,
all gray and shaking in the firelight, and laid a
hand on his shoulder.

   "I'm obliged to you, Neighbor Stone," he said
gently. "It's kindly thought of. But there's a jug

 [36]

 on the table and a case in hand. And I never left
a jug or a case half finished in my life."

    And just at that moment there was a sharp
rap on the door

     "Ah," said Dan'l Webster, very coolly, "I
thought your clock was a trifle slow, Neighbor
Stone." He stepped to the door and opened it.
"Come in" he said.

    The stranger came in -- very dark and tall he
looked in the firelight. He was carrying a box
under his arm-a black, japanned box with little
air holes in the lid. At the sight of the box, Jabez
Stone gave a low cry and shrank into a corner of
the room.

     "Mr. Webster, I presume," said the stranger,
very polite, but with his eyes glowing like a fox's
deep in the woods.

    "Attorney of record for Jabez Stone," said
Dan'l Webster, but his eyes were glowing too.
"Might I ask your name?"

 [37]

    “I’ve gone by a good many,” said the stranger
carelessly. “Perhaps Scratch will do for the eve-
ning. I’m often called that in these regions.”

    Then he sat down at the table and poured him-
self a drink from the jug. The liquor was cold
in the jug, but it came steaming into the glass.

    “And now,” said the stranger, smiling and
showing his teeth, “I shall call upon you, as a
law-abiding citizen, to assist me in taking pos-
session of my property.”

    Well, with that the argument began -- and it
went hot and heavy. At first, Jabez Stone had
a flicker of hope, but when he saw Dan’l Web-
ster being forced back at point after point, he
just sat scrunched in his corner, with his eyes on
that japanned box. For there wasn’t any doubt
as to the deed or the signature -- that was the
worst of it. Dan’l Webster twisted and turned
and thumped his fist on the table, but he couldn’t
get away from that. He offered to compromise

 [38]

 the case; the stranger wouldn't hear of it. He
pointed out the property had increased in value,
and state senators ought to be worth more; the
stranger stuck to the letter of the law. He was a
great lawyer, Dan'l Webster, but we know who's
the King of Lawyers, as the Good Book tells us,
and it seemed as if, for the first time, Dan'l
Webster had met his match.

    Finally, the stranger yawned a little. "Your
spirited efforts on behalf of your client do you
credit, Mr. Webster," he said, "but if you have
no more arguments to adduce, I'm rather pressed
for time-" and Jabez Stone shuddered.

    Dan'l Webster's brow looked dark as a thun-
dercloud. "Pressed or not, you shall not have
this man!" he thundered. "Mr. Stone is an
American citizen, and no American citizen may
be forced into the service of a foreign prince.
We fought England for that in ‘12 and we’ll
fight all hell for it again!"

 [39]

    "Foreign?" said the stranger. "And who calls
me a foreigner?"

   "Well, I never yet heard of the dev -- of your
claiming American citizenship," said Dan'l Web-
ster with surprise.

   "And who with better right?" said the
stranger, with one of his terrible smiles. "When
the first wrong was done to the first Indian, I
was there. When the first slaver put out for the
Congo, I stood on her deck. Am I not in your
books and stories and beliefs, from the first set-
tlements on? Am I not spoken of, still, in every
church in New England? 'Tis true the North
claims me for a Southerner, and the South for a
Northerner, but I am neither. I am merely an
honest American like yourself-and of the best
descent-for, to tell the truth, Mr. Webster,
though I don't like to boast of it, my name is
older in this country than yours."

   "Aha!" said Dan'l Webster, with the veins

 [40]

 standing out in his forehead. "Then I stand on
the Constitution! I demand a trial for my client!"

   "The case is hardly one for an ordinary court,"
said the stranger, his eyes flickering. "And, in-
deed, the lateness of the hour-"

    "Let it be any court you choose, so it is an
American judge and an American jury!" said
Dan'l Webster in his pride. "Let it be the quick
or the dead; I'll abide the issue!"

   "You have said it," said the stranger, and
pointed his finger at the door. And with that,
and all of a sudden, there was a rushing of wind
outside and a noise of footsteps. They came, clear
and distinct, through the night. And yet, they
were not like the footsteps of living men.

   "In God's name, who comes by so late?" cried
Jabez Stone, in an ague of fear.

   "The jury Mr. Webster demands," said the
stranger, sipping at his boiling glass. "You must
pardon the rough appearance of one or two;
they will have come a long way."
 
 


 
 
IV
 [43]

AND WITH THAT THE FIRE BURNED BLUE AND THE
door blew open and twelve men entered, one
by one.

   If Jabez Stone had been sick with terror be-
fore, he was blind with terror now. For there
was Walter Butler, the loyalist, who spread fire
and horror through the Mohawk Valley in the
times of the Revolution; and there was Simon
Girty, the renegade, who saw white men burned
at the stake and whooped with the Indians to
see them burn. His eyes were green, like a cata-
mount's, and the stains on his hunting shirt did

 [44]

not come from the blood of the deer. King Philip
was there, wild and proud as he had been in
life, with the great gash in his head that gave
him his death wound, and cruel Governor Dale,
who broke men on the wheel. There was Morton
of Merry Mount, who so vexed the Plymouth
Colony, with his flushed, loose, handsome face
and his hate of the godly. There was Teach, the
bloody pirate, with his black beard curling on
his breast. The Reverend John Smeet, with his
strangler's hands and his Geneva gown, walked
as daintily as he had to the gallows. The red
print of the rope was still around his neck, but
he carried a perfumed handkerchief in one hand.
One and all, they came into the room with the
fires of hell still upon them, and the stranger
named their names and their deeds as they came,
till the tale of twelve was told. Yet the stranger
had told the truth-they had all played a part
in America.

 [45]

    "Are you satisfied with the jury, Mr. Web-
ster?" said the stranger mockingly, when they
had taken their places.

   The sweat stood upon Dan'l Webster's brow,
but his voice was clear.

   "Quite satisfied," he said. "Though I miss
General Arnold from the company."

    "Benedict Arnold is engaged upon other busi-
ness," said the stranger, with a glower. "Ah, you
asked for a justice, I believe."

    He pointed his finger once more, and a tall
man, soberly clad in Puritan garb, with the burn-
ing gaze of the fanatic, stalked into the room
and took his judge's place.

   "Justice Hathorne is a jurist of experience,"
said the stranger. "He presided at certain witch
trials once held in Salem. There were others
who repented of the business later, but not he."

   "Repent of such notable wonders and under-
takings?" said the stern old justice. "Nay, hang

 [46]

 them-hang them all!" And he muttered to him-
self in a way that struck ice into the soul of Jabez
Stone.

    Then the trial began, and, as you might ex-
pect, it didn't look anyways good for the defense.
And Jabez Stone didn't make much of a witness
in his own behalf. He took one look at Simon
Girty and screeched, and they had to put him
back in his corner in a kind of swoon.

    It didn't halt the trial, though; the trial went
on, as trials do. Dan'l Webster had faced some
hard juries and hanging judges in his time, but
this was the hardest he'd ever faced, and he knew
it. They sat there with a kind of glitter in their
eyes, and the stranger's smooth voice went on
and on. Every time he'd raise an objection, it'd
be "Objection sustained," but whenever Dan'l
objected, it'd be "Objection denied." Well, you
couldn't expect fair play from a fellow like this
Mr. Scratch.

 [47]

    It got to Dan'l in the end, and he began to
heat, like iron in the forge. When he got up to
speak he was going to flay that stranger with
every trick known to the law, and the judge and
jury too. He didn't care if it was contempt of
court or what would happen to him for it. He
didn't care any more what happened to Jabez
Stone. He just got madder and madder, think-
ing of what he'd say. And yet, curiously enough,
the more he thought about it, the less he was
able to arrange his speech in his mind.

 Till, finally, it was time for him to get up on
his feet, and he did so, all ready to bust out with
lightnings and denunciations. But before he
started he looked over the judge and jury for a
moment, such being his custom. And he noticed
the glitter in their eyes was twice as strong as
before, and they all leaned forward. Like hounds
just before they get the fox, they looked, and
the blue mist of evil in the room thickened as

 [48]

 he watched them. Then he saw what he'd been
about to do, and he wiped his forehead, as a
man might who's just escaped falling into a pit
in the dark.

    For it was him they'd come for, not only Jabez
Stone. He read it in the glitter of their eyes and
in the way the stranger hid his mouth with one
hand. And if he fought them with their own
weapons, he'd fall into their power; he knew
that, though he couldn't have told you how. It
was his own anger and horror that burned in
their eyes; and he'd have to wipe that out or the
case was lost. He stood there for a moment, his
black eyes burning like anthracite. And then he
began to speak.

    He started off in a low voice, though you could
hear every word. They say he could call on the
harps of the blessed when he chose. And this
was-just as simple and easy as a man could talk.
But he didn't start out by condemning or revil-

 [49]

 ing. He was talking about the things that make
a country a country, and a man a man.

    And he began with the simple things that
everybody's known and felt-the freshness of a
fine morning when you're young, and the taste of
food when you're hungry, and the new day that's
every day when you're a child. He took them
up and he turned them in his hands. They were
good things for any man. But without freedom,
they sickened. And when he talked of those en-
slaved, and the sorrows of slavery, his voice got
like a big bell. He talked of the early days of
America and the men who had made those days.
It wasn't a spread-eagle speech, but he made you
see it. He admitted all the wrong that had ever
been done. But he showed how, out of the wrong
and the right, the suffering and the starvations,
something new had come. And everybody had
played a part in it, even the traitors.

    Then he turned to Jabez Stone and showed

 [50]

 him as he was-an ordinary man who'd had hard
luck and wanted to change it. And, because he'd
wanted to change it, now he was going to be
punished for all eternity. And yet there was good
in Jabez Stone, and he showed that good. He
was hard and mean, in some ways, but he was
a man. There was sadness in being a man, but it
was a proud thing too. And he showed what the
pride of it was till you couldn't help feeling it.
Yes, even in hell, if a man was a man, you'd
know it. And he wasn't pleading for any one
person any more, though his voice rang like an
organ. He was telling the story and the failures
and the endless journey of mankind. They got
tricked and trapped and bamboozled, but it was
a great journey. And no demon that was ever
foaled could know the inwardness of it-it took
a man to do that.


 
 
V
 [53]

 THE FIRE BEGAN TO DIE ON THE HEARTH AND THE
wind before morning to blow. The light was
getting gray in the room when Dan'l Webster
finished. And his words came back at the end
to New Hampshire ground, and the one spot of
land that each man loves and clings to. He
painted a picture of that, and to each one of that
jury he spoke of things long forgotten. For his
voice could search the heart, and that was his
gift and his strength. And to one, his voice was
like the forest and its secrecy, and to another
like the sea and the storms of the sea; and one
heard the cry of his lost nation in it, and another

 [54]

saw a little harmless scene he hadn't remem-
bered for years. But each saw something. And
when Dan'l Webster finished he didn't know
whether or not he'd saved Jabez Stone. But he
knew he'd done a miracle. For the glitter was
gone from the eyes of judge and jury, and, for
the moment, they were men again, and knew
they were men.

    "The defense rests," said Dan'l Webster, and
stood there like a mountain. His ears were still
ringing with his speech, and he didn't hear any
thing else till he heard judge Hathorne say,
"The jury will retire to consider its verdict."

    Walter Butler rose in his place and his face
had a dark, gay pride on it.

 "The jury has considered its verdict," he said,
and looked the stranger full in the eye. "We find
for the defendant, Jabez Stone."

    With that, the smile left the stranger's face,
but Walter Butler did not flinch.

 [55]

    "Perhaps 'tis not strictly in accordance with
the evidence," he said, "but even the damned
may salute the eloquence of Mr. Webster."

    With that, the long crow of a rooster split the
gray morning sky, and judge and jury were gone
from the room like a puff of smoke and as if they
had never been there. The stranger turned to
Dan'l Webster, smiling wryly. "Major Butler
was always a bold man," he said. "I had not
thought him quite so bold. Nevertheless, my
congratulations, as between two gentlemen."

    "I'll have that paper first, if you please," said
Dan'l Webster, and he took it and tore it into
four pieces. It was queerly warm to the touch.
"And now," he said, "I'll have you!" and his
hand came down like a bear trap on the stranger's
arm. For he knew that once you bested anybody
like Mr. Scratch in fair fight, his power on you
was gone. And he could see that Mr. Scratch
knew it too.

 [56]

    The stranger twisted and wriggled, but he
couldn't get out of that grip. "Come, come, Mr.
Webster," he said, smiling palely. "This sort of
thing is ridic-ouch!-is ridiculous. If you're
worried about the costs of the case, naturally, I'd
be glad to pay-"

    "And so you shall!" said Dan'l Webster, shak-
ing him till his teeth rattled. "For you'll sit right
down at that table and draw up a document,
promising never to bother Jabez Stone nor his
heirs or assigns nor any other New Hampshire
man till doomsdayl For any hades we want to
raise in this state, we can raise ourselves, with
out assistance from strangers."

    "Ouchl" said the stranger. "Ouch! Well, they
never did run very big to the barrel, but-ouch!
-I agree!"

    So he sat down and drew up the document.
But Dan'l Webster kept his hand on his coat
collar all the time.

 [57]

    "And, now, may I go?" said the stranger, quite
humble, when Dan'l'd seen the document was
in proper and legal form.

    "Go?" said Dan'l, giving him another shake.
"I'm still trying to figure out what I'll do with
you. For you've settled the costs of the case, but
you haven't settled with me. I think I'll take you
back to Marshfield," he said, kind of reflective.
"I've got a ram there named Goliath that can
butt through an iron door. I'd kind of like to
turn you loose in his field and see what he'd do."

    Well, with that the stranger began to beg and
to plead. And he begged and he pled so hum-
ble that finally Dan'l, who was naturally kind
hearted, agreed to let him go. The stranger
seemed terrible grateful for that and said, just
to show they were friends, he'd tell Dan'l's
fortune before leaving. So Dan'l agreed to that,
though he didn't take much stock in fortune-
tellers ordinarily.

 [58]

    But, naturally, the stranger was a little dif-
ferent. Well, he pried and he peered at the line
in Dan'l's hands. And he told him one thing and
another that was quite remarkable. But they
were all in the past.

    "Yes, all that's true, and it happened," said
Dan'l Webster. "But what's to come in the fu-
ture?"

    The stranger grinned, kind of happily, and
shook his head. "The future's not as you think
it," he said. "It's dark. You have a great ambi-
tion, Mr. Webster."

    "I have," said Dan'l firmly, for everybody
knew he wanted to be President.

    "It seems almost within your grasp," said the
stranger, "but you will not attain it. Lesser men
will be made President and you will be passed
over."

    "And, if I am, I'll still be Daniel Webster,"
said Dan'l. "Say on."

 [59]

    "You have two strong sons," said the stranger,
shaking his head. "You look to found a line.
But each will die in war and neither reach great-
ness.”

    "Live or die, they are still my sons," said Dan'l
Webster. "Say on."

    "You have made great speeches," said the
stranger. "You will make more."

    "Ah," said Dan'l Webster.

    "But the last great speech you make will turn
many of your own against you," said the stranger.
"They will call you Ichabod; they will call you
by other names. Even in New England some
will say you have turned your coat and sold your
country, and their voices will be loud against
you till you die."

    "So it is an honest speech, it does not matter
what men say," said Dan'l Webster. Then he
looked at the stranger and their glances locked.

 "One question," he said. "I have fought for

 [60]

 the Union all my life. Will I see that fight won
against those who would tear it apart?"

    "Not while you live," said the stranger, grimly,
"but it will be won. And after you are dead,
there are thousands who will fight for your cause,
because of words that you spoke."

    "Why, then, you long-barreled, slab-sided,
lantern-jawed, fortune-telling note shaver!" said
Dan'l Webster, with a great roar of laughter, "be
off with you to your own place before I put my
mark on you! For, by the thirteen original colo-
nies, I'd go to the Pit itself to save the Union!"

    And with that he drew back his foot for a kick
that would have stunned a horse. It was only the
tip of his shoe that caught the stranger, but he
went flying out of the door with his collecting
box under his arm.

    "And now," said Dan'l Webster, seeing Jabez
Stone beginning to rouse from his swoon, "let's
see what's left in the jug, for it's dry work talk-

 [61]

 ing all night. I hope there's pie for breakfast,
Neighbor Stone."

    But they say that whenever the devil comes
near Marshfield, even now, he gives it a wide
berth. And he hasn't been seen in the state of
New Hampshire from that day to this. I'm not
talking about Massachusetts or Vermont.

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