nd asked him what
he thought.

"I don't know," he answered. "Don't you see the disposition there is to
rush everything? I don't think they will be out long."

"You made a great speech, sir."

"Wasn't bad, considering the material. We were at a disadvantage. He
stood there in the road, you know, and that is a hard thing to get
round."

"But the judge must have felt your speech."

"Why, my son, I don't suppose he heard it."

I went away and again I walked about the town. It was dusk and the
tavern bell was ringing. On the court-house steps and on the public
square men were discussing the trial and venturing their opinions as to
the result. I heard one man say: "The old soldier made a great fight,
but the odds were against him. Bet ten dollars they find him guilty."

"There's his friend over there," another man spoke up. "Don't talk so
loud."

"Can't help who's there listening; money's here talkin'. Any takers?"

Not far away there was a wooden bridge over a small stream and thither I
went and leaned upon the rail, listening to the murmur of the water. I
thought that this must be the brook that rippled past our house, and I
went down to the water's edge and bathed my aching head. Then I
remembered that I had eaten nothing since early morning, and I thought
that I would better go to the tavern, and was turning away when I heard
some one cry: "The jury is in and court has met again!" I scrambled up
and hastened toward the court-house, and at the steps I met a number of
men coming out. "It's all over," one of them said to me. "Imprisonment
for life. Conkwright has moved for a new trial and the judge has granted
it."

I hastened to the jail, whither they had taken Alf. I found him seated
on his bed. He got up when he saw me.

"Bill," he said, in a voice low and steady, "I am not going to the
penitentiary if you are my friend."

"And you know that I am, Alf."

"Then you will lend me your knife."

"No, Alf, I can't do that--not now. Remember that we have another
chance."

"I don't mean now--I mean if that last chance fails. Now I want you to
do something for me. You tell father that he must sell his farm
immediately and leave here. Tell him that I'll hate him if he doesn't
do as I say. You can stay here and write to him, and if I don't come out
at the next trial, all right, and if I do, I can go to him. It may seem
hard, but he's got to do it. He wouldn't live here, any way. Will you do
it?"

"I will, for