He was always looked upon as a murderer here--and so, of course, he was, if he consented.
At the time when this conversation took place in Judge Stone's office, the Bunkers were in the heyday of their bad eminence, and while they were operating a good way off, there was some terror at the mention of their name.

The judge looked me over for a minute when Henderson L.
suggested me for the second time as a good man for his body-guard.
"Will you go, Jake ?" he asked.

"Or are you scared of the Bunkers ?" Now, as a general rule, I should have had to take half an hour or so to decide a thing like that; but when he asked me if I was scared of the Bunkers, it nettled me; and after looking from him to Henderson L.for about five minutes, I said I'd go.

I was not invited to the party, of course; for it was an affair of the big bugs; but I never thought that an invitation was called for.

I felt just as good as any one, but I was a little wamble-cropped when I thought that I shouldn't know how to behave.
"How you going, Judge ?" asked Henderson L.
"In my family carriage," said the judge.
"The only family carriage I ever saw you have," said Henderson L., "is that old buckboard." "I traded that off," answered the judge, "to a fellow driving through to the Fort Dodge country.