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"
Now
,
then
,
"
pursues
Zeb
,
with
a
gesture
of
impatience
.
"
'
Two
n't
do
to
keep
the
Court
a-waitin
'
.
Are
ye
riddy
?
"
"
Ready
for
what
?
"
"
Fust
an
foremost
,
to
go
back
along
wi
'
me
an
Mister
Gerald
.
Second
an
second-most
,
to
stan
'
yur
trial
.
"
"
Trial
!
I
stand
trial
!
"
"
You
,
Mister
Cash
Calhoun
.
"
"
On
what
charge
?
"
"
The
churge
o
'
killin
'
Henry
Peintdexter
--
yur
own
cousin
.
"
"
It
's
a
lie
!
A
damned
slanderous
lie
;
and
whoever
says
it
--
!
"
"
Shet
up
yur
head
!
"
cries
Zeb
,
with
an
authoritative
gesture
.
"
Ye
're
only
wastin
'
breath
.
Ef
this
chile
ai
n't
mistook
about
it
,
ye
'll
need
all
ye
've
got
afore
long
.
Kum
,
now
!
make
riddy
to
reeturn
wi
'
us
!
The
judge
air
awaitin
'
;
the
jury
air
awaitin
'
;
an
justice
air
waitin
'
,
too
--
in
the
shape
o
'
three
score
Reg
'
lators
.
"
