He stood there looking about on the throng, his quick bright eyes travelling from one face to another, half suspicious of them all, half frightened like a wild thing of the woods. And when the people laughed he laughed with them at himself. The difficulty about the oath over, he told his story, eagerly, somewhat like a child, in short hurried sentences, his bright eyes still hurrying over the audience, his long nervous fingers fingering the brim of his old felt hat. “I was going acrost the medder--” he began, “ahint of the graveyard--” and Gene’s lawyer helped him out with questions. “You saw a bundle on the ground like a human body--” the bright eyes focused on the lawyer an instant. “No, it was broken glass. Leastways that’s what I thought I saw. They tell me--” The lawyer hurried into another question, and the Judge interrupted: “Suppose you look around, Noah, and tell me if you can see the man you saw that night digging in the graveyard?” The bright eyes focused on the Judge, and then turned quickly toward Tyke. The lawyer hastened with his assistance. “Was it this man, Noah?” he pointed to the prisoner. Noah Casey turned around toward the box where Darcy sat and saw Darcy for the first time: “What! _Him?_” he asked, pointing with a long finger at Darcy who regarded him with a grin of friendliness. “Why, no, that’s Darcy Sherwood. I know _him_. I’ve knowed him since he was a little tad. Oh, no, it wa’n’t Darcy. _He’s_ a good boy. He wouldn’t do such a thing. The man I saw had red ha--” But Gene’s lawyer raised his voice: “Your Honor, I am disappointed in this witness. Mentally he does not seem to be quite all that I supposed--” “Undoubtedly--” said the Judge under his breath, and Noah was hustled off the scene. But the afternoon came on and somehow the false witnesses were making a pretty good case of it against Darcy. The Judge’s eyebrows were drawn in a heavy frown and his breath came quick and deep. Those who knew him well knew that he was troubled, and it was just then that Dan’s note was handed up. No one but Darcy noticed the twinkle that came in the Judge’s eyes, and he wondered and tried to puzzle it out. The Judge was his friend he knew, and wanted to see him cleared, but surely all hope was gone. The evidence was all on one side. Why prolong the agony? It almost seemed as if the Judge were trying to keep the case going, trying to make time. He asked the most trivial questions and tripped up the lawyer again and again, holding a witness far beyond necessity. All at once the Judge drew a long breath and a light came in his eye. He sat back as if he were done, and ordered that the prisoner be allowed to speak for himself.