The town marshall of Skarrow was a very busy man the next morning after the burgoo, serving warrants on Doctor Hissong and Freeman, summoning witnesses and a jury, and getting men to serve on a jury in a small town, where two of its foremost citizens are to stand trial, is a matter of considerable difficulty. Freeman had only received a slight flesh wound, and was not confined to his home.

Court was held in the office of Judge Budlong, who acted as prosecuting attorney, magistrate, writer of wills and general collector of accounts and rents. An occasional runaway couple, seeking the marriage bond, added a few dollars to his bank account, for the Judge had a happy-go-lucky ceremony which did not impress nor detain a restless lover too seriously with the sanctity of the occasion. There were a few law books on the table, a heavy tool-chest, where the Judge kept a jug of white corn whiskey under lock and key. The police Judge, a sort of hanger-on about town, put a coal of fire in his pipe and said, "Gentlemen, air you ready to try this case?"

Budlong arose and balanced his ponderous form against the table, holding a law-book in his hand. The tuft of whiskers on his chin seemed to quiver into an accompaniment to his words. He began reading in a deep voice: "Gentlemen of the jury, to enlighten you as to the nature of this case, I shall read to you under Subdivision V, Section 1165, Kentucky Statutes: 'If any person shall by fighting, or otherwise unlawfully pull or put out an eye, cut or bite off the tongue, nose, ear or lip, or cut or bite off any other limb or member of another person, he shall be confined in the penetentiary for not less than one, or more than five years'."

"That law don't seem to apply to this case," said the police-Judge.

"Shut up," said Budlong, "I ain't through. What do you know about law, anyhow?"

"I ain't very strong on tecknickelties," said the police-Judge, "duly elected by the voters of this town, I am the Court, and as such I perpose to perside, and I demand, sah, your respectful recognition of that fact."

"Duly elected," said Budlong, "because nobody else would have it. But, gentlemen of the jury, I shall read you Section 1166, which is as follows, 'If any person shall draw and present a pistol, loaded with lead or other substance, or shoot at and wound another with the intention to kill him, so that he does not die thereby, he shall be confined in the penetentiary not less than one, or more than five years. There's your law, gentlemen. Call the first witness!"

"Bill Shonts!" called the marshall. Bill came to the chair.

"What's your name?"

"W'y, Jedge, you know my name."

"Answer my question. What's your name?"

"Bill Shonts."

"Where do you live?"

"Sho, Jedge, you've knowed me all my life!"

"That ain't the question. You answer accordin' to the custom of the court."

"I want you to state what you know about this case."

"Directly, or indirectly, Jedge?"

"Where was you when this difficulty started?"

"Well, sir, I was not in any one certain spot, directly, but indirectly, I was jest beginnin' to—"

"State where you was at!" thundered Budlong.

"Well, sir, jest at the time of this difficulty, I was jest beginning to take a nap—"

"Do you mean to say that you was asleep?"

"Not directly, Jedge, but—"

"Where was you when the damn lie passed?"

"Jest beginning to move."

"Did you see Doctor Hissong draw a pistol?"

"No, sir, not directly."

"Did you hear a shot?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where was you then?"

"Ramblin' away, sir."

"What do you mean by ramblin' away?"

"Runnin', flyin', hittin' the dust."

"Then you don't know who fired first?"

"No, sir, not directly."

"Call Jerry McManus," said Budlong. A red-faced, jovial-looking Irishman took the chair.

"Where were you when this trouble started, Jerry?"

"Under a sycamore tree, asleep."

"Had you been drinkin'?"

"Yis, sor, thot is to say, accordin' to the liberties av a mon injoyin' the soshabilities av good company."

"Did you hear the dam lie pass?"

"No, sor, I heard no footsteps av iny sort."

"Did you hear a shot from where you lay?"

"There wor no shot from where I lay. If there wor iny shot from where I lay, thin I wor already half-shot."

"Wasn't you in a state of intoxication?"

"I wor in the state of Kintucky."

"Stand aside," said Budlong, "Call the next witness." One by one the witnesses gave their testimony, varying according to the friendly feeling for the men on trial. At last, Budlong said, "Call Brad Jackson." Old Brad got in the witness chair and gazed listlessly at the ceiling.

"Brad, was you present when this difficulty started?"

"No, sah."

"Where was you?"

"In de grove, eatin' soup."

"Where was you when the lie passed?"

"On my way to Doctor Hissong."

"State to the jury what you know about this case."

"Yassir, genelmun, hit remine me uv de time when Kernel Poindexter an' Mistah Fontaine had a quarrel ovah a fox-chase down in Baton-Rouge—"

"Confine yourself to the case," said Budlong.

"Yassir, thankee, Jedge, en Kernel Poindexter he 'low dat his dawg, Watercress wuz in de lead, full yelp at de crossin' 'buv de bayou—"

"I don't care nothin' about that fox-chase," shouted Budlong, "You tell the court what you know about this case."

"Yassir, I'm tryin' to, Marse Jim—en Mistah Brandon Fontaine, you know, he want one er de ole quality in dat naberhood, he sorter drap in dar, en pick up a lot er money by sorter tradin' en watchin' 'roun' de edges, en a kine uv cotton swapper, en wo' fine duds en' de bigges' watch-chain yo' ever see—"

"Judge, will you pull that old nigger back to this case?" said Budlong.

"In due time, sah, in due time," said the police-Judge, who wanted to hear the outcome of Brad's story.

"Yassir, en Mistah Brandon Fontaine en Kernel Poindexter, dey met in front uv de post-office, en Mistah Brandon Fontaine he smokin' a long, black seegar, en one foot crossed on tuther, en when Kernel Poindexter come up, Mistah Fontaine say, 'Yo' dawg cut thru en got in de lead,' en Kernel Poindexter, he look jes ez cool ez a cabbage-leaf, en he say, 'Hit's a scan'lous lie, frum low trash!' Kernel Poindexter done turned white en his eye wuz all glitter—"

"I told you, for the last time, to tell what you know about this case!"

"Yassir, easy, Marse Jim. Gimme a chanst. En Mr. Brandon Fontaine kinder thode hi han' behine him, en' Kernel Poindexter crac' erway at him en bust a bottle uv whiskey inside his pocket en dis hyar Mistah Fontaine, he showed de yaller jes' lak Mr. Freeman did yestiddy, en he rin so fas' dat yo' could play checkers on his coat-tail!"

"Stand aside," roared Budlong.

The case went to the jury. That august body retired to deliberate. The stragglers near the window heard hot words and wrangling in the jury-room. In the course of an hour, the door opened and the jury filed in.

"Have you reached a verdict, gentlemen?"

"We have," said the foreman.

"What is it?"

"We don't find no evidence to convict nobody."

"So help me, Caesar!" said Budlong.