If you don't want to get your head
smashed, stand from under. The game is to jump in, grab what you
can, and jump out, dodging the bricks as they come. Let's go up-
town, old man."
Neither of the young men was expressing his own views. Both were
too young and too inexperienced to have any fixed ideas on so
vital a subject.
It was the old fellow in the snuff-colored coat, black stock and
dog-eared collar that was behind Jack. If he were alive to-day
Jack's view would have been his view, and that was the reason why
it was Jack's view. The boy could no more explain it than he could
prove why his eyes were brown and his hair a dark chestnut, or why
he always walked with his toes very much turned out, or made
gestures with his hands when he talked. Had any of the jury been
alive--and some of them were--or the prosecuting-attorney, or
even any one of the old settlers who attended court, they could
have told in a minute which one of the two young men was Judge
Breen's son. Not that Jack looked like his father.
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