TIBERIUS SMITH
"Tib caught it, and turned quickly, saying, 'The court will now convene within. Leave the exhibits where they are.'
"‘Don't monkey with this game,' I begged of the old chap; but he looked at me sorrowfully, and whispered:
"‘Billy, this little legal nut has got to be cracked by some one, and if it wanders into the higher courts it won't be because I'm not the child to settle it. Besides, there's a nice point of law involved, just what I've been aching to get at all my life.'
"I groaned and conceded he could hang his hat on a dozen such points, but without profit, and so, following him, I called court to order. Then up jumped Hiram's tall, thin angel, and, with a sophomoric, Italy-beyond-the-Alps delivery, he explained how Silas Higbutton had died without kin and had willed his little all to his trusty hired man.
"‘Ye can't probate a will in this demed, one-hoss court,' snarled old Peasly, his white whiskers bristling in anger. 'He's got ter take it ter a court of probate.'
"‘This court must pass upon the validity of the will before deciding whether you are guilty as charged,' said Tib, stoutly. 'And as for the physical aspect of the court, your outre metaphor will cost you five dollars. Brother Remmy, what have you to say?'
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