The Starbucks Part 40

"If you air the Jedge," said Laz, gazing intently, "I am sorter diserp'inted in you. I thought a United States Jedge must be about eight feet high."

"Well, never mind what you thought. You are here to tell what you know.

Here, you," he added, speaking to Mose, "what is your name?"

"M--M--M--M--M--M--"

"Well, never mind. Where do you live?"

"Well, if y--y--y--y--you don't know a feller's n--n--n--name it don't m--m--m--make no d--d--d--diffunce whar he lives, d--d--d--does it?"

Laz struck in. "He won't tell you a lie, Jedge. He won't have time."

Rap, rap, at Laz.

"Never mind, sir. I will attend to you presently. You," he said, speaking to Mose. "Did you ever see Mr. Starbuck make whiskey?"

"Well, I've seed him m--m--m--m--make l--l--l--la.s.ses."

The Judge grew impatient. "Do you know why you are here?"

"B--b--b--b--because they c--c--c--c--cotch me."

"No nonsense, sir."

"P--p--p--p--pap he 'lows I ain't g--g--g--got no sense of any s--s--s--sort, much."

The Judge sighed. "When you go into the court-room, do you think you can understand the nature of an oath?"

"W--w--w--well, I ought to. I've b--b--b--been c--c--cussed enough."

And Laz broke in: "He don't cuss hisse'f, Jedge, but he knows good cussin' when he hears it."

The Judge turned upon him. "Will you please keep quiet? I am striving to deal kindly with you, and I hope you will not lose sight of that fact."

He spoke to Mose: "How far do you live from Mr. Starbuck's place?"

"W--w--w--well, you can't tell h--h--how far it is, the r--r--road's so crooked."

"Captain," said the Judge, "this 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 the time. I'd like to do that much fur him. As fur me, Jedge, it don't make much diffunce whuther I'm locked up or not.

An' say, if it ain't stretchin' a p'int, I'll take it all, but don't let him know how it come about."

The Judge looked at him and his eye was not hard. "Go on, young man. You don't know where you got that spirit of self-sacrifice--you can never know; but I appreciate it. Go on, young man."

CHAPTER XXV.

TOO PROUD TO BEG.

"The old man may tell the truth," said the Judge. "Mr. Foster, have him brought in."

Foster stepped to a side door, opened it, looked in and beckoned. He stood aside and old Jasper walked into the room.

"Judge," said the Marshal, "this is the prisoner."

"Where is the Jedge?" Jasper inquired, looking about.

"This is Judge Elliott," the Marshal answered, motioning.