The Judge - who was also his captor - for a moment
vaguely regretted that he had not shot him "on sight," that morning, but
presently dismissed this human weakness as unworthy of the judicial
mind. Nevertheless, when there was a tap at the door, and it was said
that Tennessee's Partner was there on behalf of the prisoner, he was
admitted at once without question. Perhaps the younger members of the
jury, to whom the proceedings were becoming irksomely thoughtful, hailed
him as a relief.
For he was not, certainly, an imposing figure. Short and stout, with a
square face, sunburned into a preternatural redness, clad in a loose
duck "jumper" and trousers streaked and splashed with red soil, his
aspect under any circumstances would have been quaint, and was now even
ridiculous. As he stooped to deposit at his feet a heavy carpet-bag he
was carrying, it became obvious, from partially developed legends and
inscriptions, that the material with which his trousers had been patched
had been originally intended for a less ambitious covering. Yet he
advanced with great gravity, and after shaking the hand of each person
in the room with labored cordiality, he wiped his serious, perplexed
face on a red bandanna handkerchief, a shade lighter than his
complexion, laid his powerful hand upon the table to steady himself, and
thus addressed the Judge: - "I was passin' by," he began, by way of
apology, "and I thought I'd just step in and see how things was gittin'
on with Tennessee thar, - my pardner.
Pages:
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27