The judge will be fair he always is, said Hightower, the local lawyer, and of course Gilliam is only doing his duty. Those jurors are as good solid men as you can find in this country anywhere. But they cant help being prejudiced. Human natures not strong enough to stand out against the feeling thats grown up round here against Tandy since he shot Ab Rankin.
Son, said Judge Priest, still with his eyes on the darkening square below, about how many of them jurors would you say are old soldiers?
Four or five that I know of, said Hightower and maybe more. Its hard to find a man over fifty years old in this section that didnt see active service in the Big War.
Ah, hah, assented Judge Priest with a squeaky little grunt. That foreman now he looked like he might of seen some fightin?
Four years of it, said Hightower. He came out a captain in the cavalry.
Ah, hah. Judge Priest sucked at his pipe. Herman, he J wheezed back over his shoulder to Felsburg, did you notice a
tall sort of a saddle-colored darky playing a juice harp in front of that there sideshow as we came along up? I reckon that nigger could play almost any tune youd a mind to hear him play?
At a time like this Durham was distinctly not interested in the versatilities of strange negroes in this corner of the world. He kept silent, shrugging his shoulders petulantly.
I wonder now is that nigger left town yet? mused the old judge half to himself.
I saw him just a while ago going down toward the depot, volunteered Hightower. Theres a train out of here for Memphis at 8:50. Its about twenty minutes of that now.
Ah, hah, jest about, assented the judge. When the judge said Ah, hah! like that it sounded like the striking of a fiddle-bow across a fiddles tautened E-string.
Well, boys, he went on, weve all got to do the best we can for Breck Tandy, aint we? Say, son this was aimed at Durham Id like mightily for you to put me on the stand the last one tomorrow. You wait until youre through with Herman and Colonel Quigley here, before you call me. And if I should seem to ramble somewhat in giving my testimony why, son, you just let me ramble, will you? I know these people down here better maybe than you do and if I should seem inclined to ramble, just let me go ahead and dont stop me, please?
Judge Priest, said Durham tartly, if you think it could possibly do any good, ramble all you like.
Much obliged, said the old judge, and he struggled into his low-quarter shoes and stood up, dusting the tobacco fluff off himself.
Herman have you got any loose change about you?
Felsburg nodded and reached into his pocket. The judge made a discriminating selection of silver and bills from the handful that the merchant extended to him across the table.
Ill take about ten dollars, he said. I didnt come down here with more than enough to jest about buy my railroad ticket and pay my bill at this here tavern, and I might want a sweetenin dram or somethin.
He pouched his loan and crossed the room. Boys, he said, I think Ill be knockin round a little before I turn in. Herman, I may stop by your room a minute as I come back in. You boys better turn in early and git yourselves a good nights sleep. We are all liable to be purty tolerable busy tomorrow.
After he was outside he put his head back in the door and said to Durham:
Remember, son, I may ramble.
Durham nodded shortly, being somewhat put out by the vagaries of a mind that could concern itself with trivial things on the imminent eve of a crisis.
As the judge creaked ponderously along the hall and down the stairs those he had left behind heard him whistling a tune to himself, making false starts at the air and halting often to correct his meter. It was an unknown tune to them all, but to Felsburg, the oldest of the four, it brought a vague, unplaced memory.
The old judge was whistling when he reached the street. He stood there a minute until he had mastered the time to his own satisfaction, and then, still whistling, he shuffled along the uneven board pavement, which, after rippling up and down like a broken-backed snake, dipped downward to a little railroad station at the foot of the street.
In the morning nearly half the town the white half came to the trial, and enough of the black half to put a dark hem, like a mourning border, across the back width of the courtroom. Except that Main Street now drowsed in the heat where yesterday it had buzzed, this day might have been the day before. Again the resolute woodpecker drove his bloodied head with unimpaired energy against the tin sheathing up above. It was his third summer for that same cupola and the tin was pocked with little dents for three feet up and down. The mourning doves still pitched their lamenting note back and forth across the courthouse yard; and in the dewberry patch at the bottom of Aunt Tilly Hasletts garden down by the creek the meadow larks strutted in buff and yellow, with crescent-shaped gorgets of black at their throats, like Old Continentals, sending their dear-piped warning of Laziness gwine kill you! in at the open windows of the steamy, smelly courtroom.