"Isn't this a wicked shame!" cried the little old lady, paying no attention to Mrs. Warren's question. "It's just the cruellest thing I ever heard of, bringing these boys here. I'll tell the judge that, too, if they'll let me. Where is that old scamp, Colonel Witham, and that old mischief-maker, Squire Brackett? If I don't give them a piece of my mind!

I told Jerry about it all the way over, and you ought to have heard him growl. Here he is; just listen how angry he is."

And Mrs. Newcome, unfastening the cover of the basket which she had been carrying, disclosed to view the aforesaid Jerry, lying within on a cushion. The cat, in corroboration of his mistress's declaration, certainly did growl and snarl and then yowl dolorously; but whether as an endors.e.m.e.nt of old Mrs. Newcome's indignation, or whether giving vent to his own at being whisked about in a basket on a boiling hot day, no one but he could say positively.

"These boys didn't set that fire," snapped the old lady, decisively; "and I just want to do what I can for them. I couldn't leave Jerry behind. He gets so lonesome without me. So I brought him along. And now, Mr. Warren, I suppose you know I'm not the poorest person that comes down here to spend summers, and I've got some property around these parts, too-some land in this very town. And if there's any what-do-you-call-it to pay-"

"Any bail?" suggested the squire.

"That's it-bail. That's the word. If there's any of that to pay, I've got the securities right here," and Mrs. Newcome shook the chatelaine-bag vigorously.

"You are very kind," said Mr. Warren, amused in spite of himself. "But I'm hoping we shall not have need of bail."

But in the midst of it there came the ringing voice of the crier in the court-room adjoining, and the little party all filed into court again, old Mrs. Newcome bringing up the rear, with the basket on her arm, whence there emerged now and then a stifled wail, in spite of her whispered admonitions.

"We have closed our case," said the prosecuting attorney. And the defence was begun.

"George Warren!" called Squire Barker, and George, paling slightly at the ordeal, but doing his best to keep up a stout heart, took the stand.

He told his story with a frankness that was convincing, keeping nothing back; and at the close Squire Barker asked: "And did you, or did you see anybody else set a fire that night?"

"Certainly not," he answered. And there was no doubt that he had made a good impression.

But there were certain ugly facts that were made to stick out more embarra.s.singly on the prosecuting attorney's cross-examination.

"You will admit," he asked, "that you left on the second day following the fire, because you did not care to be questioned about it?"

"Yes, because we knew that our being in the hotel that night would look suspicious, if it were known," answered George Warren.

"Then you were going to conceal that fact, if you could?"

"Yes-I think we were-for awhile, at least."

"And so you ran away?"

"We didn't start out with the idea of running away."

"But you did run from the _Nancy Jane_ when you found she was following and pursuing you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I really can't tell you," said George Warren. "I realize now it was a foolish thing to do. But it was not because we were guilty."

"But you were all in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the hotel a few moments before the fire started?"

"Yes, we were."

"That is all," said the prosecuting attorney, and George left the stand.

Henry Burns, called next, did the best he could for his comrades.

"If it's anybody's fault, it's mine," he said. "You see, it was my suggestion that got us in there. I was the first to go inside, and the others came only after I had urged them."

But Squire Barker knew that this avowal, honest as it was, could not help them in the eyes of the law. So, having asked a few perfunctory questions, he turned the witness over to the prosecuting attorney. The latter brought out about the same points that he had made in the testimony of George Warren, and that was all.

It was quite clear that Squire Barker was only calling the boys from a sense of duty to them, to let them make the best impression they might upon the mind of the judge. It was the only suit he had to play.

Then followed Arthur and Joe, and at length Tom and Bob.

The squire was at the end of his resources now, as far as evidence could go. It remained but for him to do his duty in the minds of his clients and his townsmen, and he did it-to his own satisfaction, at least, in his address to the court. He painted the heroism of the boys at the fire in colours glowing as the flames. He enlarged upon the probability and the presumption of innocence. And he paid his respects to the colonel and the squire in a few stinging sentences that turned the eyes of the a.s.sembled audience upon them in indignation.

And when he was all done and the court-room turned with expectancy toward the prosecuting attorney, the latter simply said:

"Your Honour, the people will submit their case without argument."

And so, with startling abruptness, the case had come to its crisis. There was nothing left but for the law to act.

There succeeded a deathlike stillness in the court-room. His Honour sat for some moments, with his eyes cast down upon his desk. He seemed loath to speak. Finally he arose and, with some effort, said, gently:

"In all my experience as attorney and as judge I have never before been placed in a position so distasteful to me nor so distressing. The case of these young men is most unfortunate. Their stories impress me as honestly told. Their characters are clearly such as are opposed to any such wanton destruction as is here alleged. And yet the circ.u.mstances are such that I should be blind to the duty of my office if I failed to hold them for trial. I hope that when their case shall come to trial this fall that they will have gathered evidence that shall show conclusively their innocence. In the meantime, deeply as I regret it, it becomes my painful duty to order that they be held."

Again an utter stillness in the court-room, broken only by the sobbing of a woman. The entire court-room waited silently for the next move, amazed at the suddenness of the conclusion. Six boys set their teeth hard and tried to look undismayed, but the face of each spoke only too plainly of his distress.

Then all at once the patter of feet broke the silence in the court-room, and a slight boyish figure, poorly dressed and unkempt, darted up the aisle, into the august presence of the court, and sought refuge in the seat next to that occupied by Mr. Warren.

A court officer, who had been stationed at the door, lumbered in after the boyish figure.

"Officer," cried Squire Ellis, irritably, "how came you to let this lad into the court-room? What does this mean? Put him out."

"If you please, Your Honour," said the officer, very red in the face, "I drove him away from the door once, but he dodged in past me again before I could stop him."

"Remove him from the room at once," said the court, sharply.

The officer advanced.

But Tim Reardon-for it was he-had in the meantime seized upon Mr. Warren, and, though labouring under an excitement so intense as almost to deprive him wholly of the power of speech, communicated something to him of the greatest importance. Mr. Warren, in turn, having repeated this communication to Squire Barker, the latter hastily arose.

"Your Honour," he began, "this young man brings evidence of the most startling character, and which will, I am sure, reverse Your Honour's decision. He-"

But here a sound from the street outside was borne in upon the court-room, which caused the squire to pause for a moment, while he and every person in the room listened in amazement.

The noise outside increased, and now there came the sound of many voices, men and women and boys and girls shouting out some piece of news, and then a loud cheering. The tumult rapidly grew, until it seemed as if all in a moment the entire village was marching upon the court-house.

Despite the loud rapping for order of the court officers and the sharp order of the court for silence, many in the court-room rushed to the windows and looked out. A strange sight met their eyes. A procession was coming up the street, in the midst of which, his hands bound behind his back, a man was walking, while, grasping him by either arm as they walked beside him, were Jack Harvey and Joe Hinman.

Into the court-room the procession burst like an avalanche. The room had seemed somewhat crowded before, but now at least fifty or sixty more men wedged themselves in, with Harvey and his crew and the strange man still in the centre of them. The rest of the crowd that followed, not being able to force themselves into the court-room, seated themselves on the stairs just outside, and formed a long line out into the street.

His Honour, powerless to stay this astonishing inrush of the townspeople, waited till the crowd had resolved itself into something like order, and then, rapping for silence, demanded to know the cause of this invasion of and a.s.sault upon the dignity of the court.