[Footnote 26: I have already mentioned the absence of _pail_ and _pare_ from the ancient Hoosier folk-speech. _Brook_ is likewise absent. The illiterate Indiana countryman before the Civil War, let us say, had no pails, pared no apples, husked no corn, crossed no brooks. The same is true, I believe, of the South generally. As the first settlers on the Southern coast entered the land by the rivers, each smaller stream was regarded as a branch of the larger one. A small stream was therefore called a _branch_. The word brook was probably lost in the first generation. But a small stream is often called a _run_ in the Middle and Southern belt. Halliwell gives _rundel_ as used with the same signification in England, and he gives _ryn_ in the same sense from an old manuscript.] [Footnote 27: _Juberous_ is in none of the vocabularies that I have seen. I once treated this word in print as an undoubted corruption of _dubious_, and when used subjectively it apparently feels the influence of dubious, as where one says: "I feel mighty juberous about it." But it is much oftener applied as in the text to the object of fear, as "The bridge looks kind o' juberous." Halliwell gives the verb _juberd_ and defines it as "to jeopard or endanger." It is clearly a dialect form of _jeopard_, and I make no doubt that _juberous_ is a dialect variation of _jeopardous_, occasionally used as a form of _dubious_.] CHAPTER XXIX. THE TRIAL. The "prosecuting attorney" (for so the State's attorney is called in Indiana) had been sent for the night before. Ralph refused all legal help. It was not wise to reject counsel, but all his blood was up, and he declared that he would not be cleared by legal quibbles. If his innocence were not made evident to everybody, he would rather not be acquitted on a preliminary examination. He would go over to the circuit court and have the matter sifted to the bottom. But he would have been pleased had his uncle offered his counsel, though he would have declined it. He would have felt better to have had a letter from home somewhat different from the one he received from his Aunt Matilda by the hand of the prosecuting attorney. It was not very encouraging or very sympathetic, though it was very characteristic. "Dear Ralph: "This is what I have always been afraid of. I warned you faithfully the last time I saw you. My skirts are clear of your blood, I can not consent for your uncle to appear as your counsel or to go your bail. You know how much it would injure him in the county, and he has no right to suffer for your evil acts. O my dear nephew! for the sake of your poor, dead mother--"