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 



