All eyes turned on Doby. He was seized by bashfulness and by the bailiff. Between the two he went through his examination with small credit to himself. He was glad to get back to his seat. He listened to the other witnesses, then to the counsel for the defense, and then to the prosecutor again. It was hard for him to follow the arraignment and the defendant's plea. "I can see the tracks of a badger better than I can the steps of the law. What's the use of all this talk?" he thought. "Everybody knows that Jerry stole the stuff even if he did say 'Not guilty.' They ought to take it from him, hand it to the owners, give him a lickin' and get back home to supper." The written law of a State requires that a trial by judge shall go through a certain legal form; the unwritten law of the people of a State demands that a trial shall be dramatic and entertaining. Only thus can the people's power and the force of their justice be shown to them as upon a stage. So this trial had followed the usual course. The clerk had read the information. The prosecutor had made his accusation. Counsel for defense stood with the prisoner. Witnesses had testified against and for him. Upon the evidence, the judge decided the case in accordance with the law in the matter. The verdict was against the cobbler's son. He was the thief beyond doubt and he was pronounced "Guilty!" Then came the sentence. "You must pay a fine of twelve and one-half cents," decided the judge. "'Ain't got 'n' money," answered the prisoner. "Perhaps your friends can pay it for you," suggested his attorney. "'Ain't got 'n' friends," said the prisoner, with perfect truth. "The cobbler has friends," murmured the crowd. Alas! Most of the cobbler's friends were as poor as himself. Those who were well-to-do did not like to part with real money for so undeserving a cause. In those days when most debts were paid by produce and business was done by barter, twelve and a half cents was no small sum. No one offered to pay the fine. Then Judge Jennings said, "According to the law, if you cannot pay the fine, you must go to jail." Whereupon the guilty one drawled, "'Ain't got 'n' jail." This also was true. The one building in town which had a few times been officially dubbed a jail, was now, in the stress of the emergency of a crowded convention time, turned into a temporary boardinghouse. In other words, the jail was full of statesmen! There was no room in it for Jerry. The crowd stirred. Some showed pride in this state of affairs; some were plainly disgusted; others amused. Doby didn't know what to think. Then said the judge to Jerry, "I may release you on your own cognizance." "'Ain't got 'n' cone-ans," objected the stupid Jerry. The judge explained: "That means the sentence is suspended. You may be a free man as long as you do not steal any more."