s boy should not have been brought down
here. Let him stand aside. Over here," he said to Laz, motioning; and
Laz stepped forward as if measuring the distance.

"About here, Jedge?"

Rap, rap!

"Have you ever seen Mr. Starbuck make whisky?"

"I've seed him grind co'n."

"And haven't you seen him boil the corn after it was ground into meal?"

"Yes, suh. They cook it up that way for the hounds. Thar's a feller up
our way that's got mo' than a hundred hounds. They call him hound poor."

Rap, rap, rap!

"Let me tell you about this feller, Jedge. It may have some bearin's on
the matter in hand. This here feller goes down to the store, kep' by the
post-master, once a week an' swops off a hound for a pint o' licker. One
day he tuck down the biggest hound you ever seed an' when the
store-keeper had give him the pint of licker this here feller looks at
his hound an' says, 'What! don't I git nothin' back--no change?' An' the
store-keeper give him back a rat tarrier an' a bull pup."

In spite of himself the Judge ducked his head and laughed, and the
Marshal shook his sides. But the outburst of merriment was soon over.
"That is all very interesting as a character study, but we are not here
to study characters, but to get at facts."

Mose had moved around and was standing near the corner of the Judge's
desk. "I w--w--w--wish I could talk t--t--t--thatter way."

"Mr. Foster, take this boy out."

Foster came forward and Mose seized his hand as if meeting an old
acquaintance after the lapse of many years.

The Judge spoke to Laz: "When you go in under oath you'll have to be
more careful. Your drollery might send you to jail. You may go now."

As Laz turned to go he spied on the Judge's desk a fancifully wrought
ink-stand. Slowly moving toward the desk and craning his neck he took up
the ink-stand, stroked it and said: "Jedge, I'd like to borry this
thing. Fetch it back in a month or so."

"Put it down and get out. Wait a moment."

"Told me to get out."

Rap, rap!

"Hold yourself in readiness to appear before the court. Now you may go."

But he hesitated. "Hope you ain't miffed at me, Jedge, for sayin' I war
sorter diserpp'inted in you. I didn't mean no harm; an' say' Jedge, you
ask Old Jasper an' he'll tell you whuther he's made licker. He ain't one
of the sort that tells a lie, Jedge, an' I hope you'll do the best you
kin fur him; an' if you have to send him to the penitentiary I hope
you'll let me take half th