"Exactly; your venerable and respected father was with you. What were you doing there?" "We'd gone to see how pigs went." "And did you see the prisoner there?" "We did." "You mean _you_ did. You mustn't tell us what your father saw. He'll speak for himself." "Beg pardon, sir." "Had you known the prisoner before?" "This many a year. I've had my eyes on him a long time." And here Tom shot a venomous look at Ephraim, who stood in the dock looking as pleasant as though he was at his own wedding, and who acknowledged Tom's look by a beaming and encouraging smile. "Most unbecoming levity," I heard one of the magistrates whisper to a brother justice. "Well, I'm afraid I mustn't ask you what sort of a character the prisoner bears. I daresay my learned friend would object." Now, "my learned friend" was Mr. Blackburn, whom my father had fee'd to appear for Ephraim a tall, portly man, who would have made two of Mr. Alison. A sleepier-looking mortal I never saw. I could have found it in my heart to stick a pin in him that morning, for he sprawled rather than sat in his place at the attornies' table, with his hands in his pockets his eyes closed, and seeming to take no interest at all in what was going on, whilst my heart was all of a flutter, and I could scarce keep still for a minute at a time. He half opened his eyes now. "You know very well you mustn't ask as to character. Can't hang a man on his character, else some of us would stand a poor chance." A constable sniggered, then looked sternly at the back of the Court and bawled, indignantly, "Silence in Court." "I'm glad my learned friend has so just an appreciation of the gravity of his position," quoth Mr. Alison, and the Chairman of the Bench smiled; and at that all the constables felt at liberty to laugh, and so, of course, did not a few of the spectators. But Mr. Blackburn had apparently gone to sleep again. "Did you see the prisoner leave the town on the evening of that day?" "Yes, sir, about seven o'clock." "What sort of a night was it?" "Pretty dark, but fineish. There'd been some smartish rain during th' afternoon, but it had cleared." "By which way did the prisoner go?" "On the Upperhead Row, down Outcote Bank, onto th' Brigg, an' then up Crosland Moor?" "Did you and your father follow him?" "Yes, sir." "Did he call anywhere?" "Yes, sir. We see'd him go in to th' Warren." "What did you do?" "Me an' mi feyther went forrard till we come to Radcliffe's Plantation; an' aw sez to mi feyther--" "I'm afraid we can't hear what you said to your father. My friend would object." "Oh! I don't mind," said sleepy-sides. "I don't think that man minds anything as long as he gets his nap," I muttered to my father, vindictively, but my father didn't seem perturbed. "Well, if my friend doesn't object. You said to your father--?" "It's here he'll try it on, if he means doing owt to-neet. So we clambered ovver th' wall into th' Plantation, just above th' Warren House."