Bradley arose and went out
with a feeling of discouragement.

CHAPTER IV

THE TRIAL

The day of his trial came as a welcome change to Harold. He had no fear
of punishment and he hated delay. Every day before his sentence began
was a loss of time--kept him just that much longer from the alluring
lands to the West. His father called often to see him, but the boy
remained inexorably silent in all these meetings, and the minister went
away white with pain. Even to his sister Harold was abrupt and harsh,
but Jack's devotion produced in him the most exalted emotion, and he
turned upon his loyal chum the whole force of his affectionate nature.
He did not look up to Jack; he loved him more as a man loves his younger
brother, and yet even to him he would not utter the words young Slocum
had flung at him. Lawyer Talcott had asked young Burns to get at this if
possible, for purpose of defense, but it was not possible.

The court met on the first Tuesday in September. The day was windless
and warm, and as Harold walked across the yard with the sheriff he
looked around at the maple leaves, just touched with crimson and gold
and russet, and his heart ached with desire to be free. The scent of the
open air made his nostrils quiver like those of a deer.

Jack met them on the path--eager to share his hero's trouble.

"Please, sheriff, let me walk with Harry."

"Fall in behind," the sheriff gruffly replied; and so out of all the
town people Jack alone associated himself with the prisoner. Up the
stairs whereon he had romped when a lad, Harold climbed spiritlessly, a
boy no longer.

The halls were lined with faces, everyone as familiar as the scarred and
scratched wall of the court room, and yet all were now alien--no one
recognized him by a frank and friendly nod, and he moved past his old
companions with sullen and rigid face. His father met him at the door
and walked beside him down the aisle to a seat.

The benches were crowded, and every foot of standing space was soon
filled. The members of the First Church were present in mass to see the
minister enter, pale and haggard with the disgrace of his son.

The judge, an untidy old man of great ability and probity, was in his
seat, looking out absently over the spectators. "The next case" to him
was _only_ a case. He had grown gray in dealing with infractions of the
law, and though kindly disposed he had grown indifferent--use had dulled
his sympathies. His beard, yell