202 



severed ends gaping mute testimony 

 to the room's neglect. 



The Tevi sat on one of the front 

 benches, with me. Nimrod upon 

 another bench with the sheriff, the 

 front of a group of men. Facing us, 

 behind the deal table on a revolving 

 chair sat the particular branch of 

 Uncle Sam's tree of justice who was 

 to preside over our fate. 



Judge Neal was a wizened, sandy- 

 haired old man with kindly twinkling 

 eyes. He wore a small round felt hat, 

 which neither Sally's presence nor 

 mine had dislodged, a crumpled stiff 

 shirt front and a white cotton hand- 

 kerchief in lieu of a collar. Being 

 lame, a heavy walking stick reposed 

 upon the table. It served as a 

 paper weight, and later, when pro- 

 ceedings grew lively, as a gavel. 



Dean was on one side of him, 

 Barker on the other. The sun 

 poured down upon them, the flies 

 buzzed noisily, the heat was suf- 

 focating. 



One could not but contrast the 

 general discomfort and ugliness, and 

 the fires of greed and hate and mur- 

 der lurking near, with the days 



