ver the whole thing with him again, from the day that he
entered Isom's house under bond service to the night of the tragedy. Sam
Lucas went with Joe to the gate; he stood with him in the moonlight
there; then he accompanied him back to the house, clinging to him like
his own garments.

"And when you opened the kitchen door and stepped inside of that room,
what did you do?" asked the prosecutor, arranging the transcript of
Joe's testimony before the coroner's jury in his hands.

"I lit the lamp," said Joe.

"Yes; you lit the lamp. Now, _why_ did you light the lamp?"

"Because I wanted to see," replied Joe.

"Exactly. You wanted to see."

Here the prosecutor moved his eyes slowly along the two rows of jurors
as if he wanted to make certain that none of them had escaped, and as if
he desired to see that every one of them was alert and wakeful for what
he was about to develop.

"Now, tell the jury _what_ you wanted to see."

"Object!" from Hammer, who rose with his right hand held high, his small
finger and thumb doubled in his palm, like a bidder at an auction.

"Now, your honor, am I to be--" began the prosecutor with wearied
patience.

"Object!" interrupted Hammer, sweating like a haymaker.

"To _what_ do you object, Mr. Hammer?" asked the court mildly.

"To anything and everything he's about to ask!" said Hammer hotly.

The court-room received this with a laugh, for there were scores of
cornfield lawyers present. The judge smiled, balancing a pen between
finger and thumb.

"The objection is overruled," said he.

"When you lit that lamp, what did you want to see?" the prosecutor asked
again.

"I wanted to see my way upstairs," Joe answered.

The prosecutor threw off his friendly manner like a rustic flinging his
coat for a fight. He stepped to the foot of the dais on which the
witness chair stood, and aimed his finger at Joe's face.

"What were you carrying in your hand?" he demanded, advancing his finger
a little with every word, as if it held the key to the mystery, and it
was about to be inserted in the lock.

"Nothing, sir."

"What had you hidden in that room that you wanted a light to find?"

Ha, he's coming down to it now! whispered the people, turning wise looks
from man to man. Uncle Posen Spratt set his horn trumpet to his ear,
gave it a twist and settled the socket of it so firmly that not a word
could leak out on the way.

"I hadn't hidden anything, sir," said Joe.

"Where did Is