became a rage that blew through him like a gale, shaking him to
his center.

Two mornings later he found where it had been placed under his
door during the night a folded paper. It contained a single line
of writing:


"You talk too much. Shut up, or you'll go where Norton went."


Now the judge was accessible to certain forms of fear. He was,
for instance, afraid of snakes--both kinds--and mobs he had
dreaded desperately since his Pleasantville experience; but
beyond this, fear remained an unexplored region to Slocum Price,
and as he examined the scrawl a smile betokening supreme
satisfaction overspread his battered features. He was agreeably
affected by the situation; indeed he was delighted. His
activities were being recognized; he had made his impression; the
cutthroats had selected him to threaten. Well, the damned
rascals showed their good sense; he'd grant them that! Swelling
with pride, he carried the scrawl to Mahaffy.

"They are forming their estimate of me, Solomon; I shall have
them on the run yet!" he declared.

"You are going out of your way to hunt trouble--as if you hadn't
enough at the best of times, Price! Let these people manage
their own affairs, don't you mix up in them," advised the
conservative Mahaffy.