Perhaps if Sidney Wyeth had suspected what would come to pass that morning, he would have forfeited the bond by not putting in his appearance; but when he put up the collateral the night before, he had observed a mark of respect in the officers. He was sufficiently acquainted with the courts from a distance, to realize that the average Negro brought before that tribunal--with the possible exception of a boot-legger--seldom brought any money or had any at home, and invariably went in great numbers to the stockade. Moreover, the sargent and the clerk, too, had advised him that he might not possibly be fined at all. Therefore, when he left for the court, he had no thought other than that he would go free, and have his money returned. "It will, of course," they had said, "depend upon how Judge Loyal feels when you appear." He had heard something regarding this "feeling" before. He meditated as he made his way in that direction. And still he recalled more of what he had heard, which was to the effect that if "his stomach was upset, look out!" He hoped Judge Loyal didn't suffer with dyspepsia or indigestion.... As he neared that place he now remembered so well, he was overwhelmed with memories. He recalled this same court, more than ten years before. It was in a leading magazine. It was, moreover, he recalled, an interesting story, too. "Wonder if it will prove so today," he mused silently.... And now he was inside the court room. He was early, and so were many others. He recalled, with another twitch of the memory, that Judge Loyal had presided ten years before. He would see him today. "There he is now," he said to himself, as an old man with white hair came upon the platform, and took a seat behind the bench. But it was the clerk. Judge Loyal came later, so did others, many others. And now all that he had read in that article many years before, suddenly came back to him clearly. It overwhelmed him. The article concerned that court--and Negroes--Negroes--Negroes--a court of Negroes. And now he was a part of them. Although on the outside, he felt guilty. He was supposed to answer when his name was called. The court room was filling rapidly. They were herded behind huge doors, to the left of the room. Black men and a few whites. A mass of criminal humanity. He shuddered. He wished now to be over and out of it as soon as possible. And then he experienced a cold fear. It became stronger. It developed until it became a chilly premonition that Judge Loyal (Jedge L'yles, as these Negroes called him) would be feeling badly that day. This feeling persisted until it became a reality.