being great, and as they
did so they talked of rather simple things to avoid the more serious.

"Things aren't going to be so bad," Edward said to his father. "Steger
says the Governor is sure to pardon Stener in a year or less, and if he
does he's bound to let Frank out too."

Cowperwood, the elder, had heard this over and over, but he was never
tired of hearing it. It was like some simple croon with which babies are
hushed to sleep. The snow on the ground, which was enduring remarkably
well for this time of year, the fineness of the day, which had started
out to be clear and bright, the hope that the courtroom might not be
full, all held the attention of the father and his two sons. Cowperwood,
senior, even commented on some sparrows fighting over a piece of
bread, marveling how well they did in winter, solely to ease his
mind. Cowperwood, walking on ahead with Steger and Zanders, talked of
approaching court proceedings in connection with his business and what
ought to be done.

When they reached the court the same little pen in which Cowperwood had
awaited the verdict of his jury several months before was waiting to
receive him.

Cowperwood, senior, and his other sons sought places in the courtroom
proper. Eddie Zanders remained with his charge. Stener and a deputy by
the name of Wilkerson were in the room; but he and Cowperwood pretended
now not to see each other. Frank had no objection to talking to his
former associate, but he could see that Stener was diffident and
ashamed. So he let the situation pass without look or word of any kind.
After some three-quarters of an hour of dreary waiting the door leading
into the courtroom proper opened and a bailiff stepped in.

"All prisoners up for sentence," he called.

There were six, all told, including Cowperwood and Stener. Two of them
were confederate housebreakers who had been caught red-handed at their
midnight task.

Another prisoner was no more and no less than a plain horse-thief, a
young man of twenty-six, who had been convicted by a jury of stealing
a grocer's horse and selling it. The last man was a negro, a tall,
shambling, illiterate, nebulous-minded black, who had walked off with
an apparently discarded section of lead pipe which he had found in a
lumber-yard. His idea was to sell or trade it for a drink. He really
did not belong in this court at all; but, having been caught by an
undersized American watchman charged with the care of the property, an