Then there was the auctioneer, Mr.Runnimall, who swore that this animal had been, with other cattle, placed in his hands for sale by the older prisoner.The bull is accordingly sold publicly by him, and in the prisoner's presence.He subsequently receives from the witness the price, about 270 Pounds, for which the bull was sold.
The younger prisoner was there at the same time, and witnessed the sale of the bull and other cattle, giving such assistance as would lead to the conclusion that he was concerned in the transaction.
He did not wish to reflect upon this or any other jury, but he could not help recalling the fact that a jury in that town once committed the unpardonable fault, the crime, he had almost said, of refusing to find a prisoner guilty against whom well confirmed evidence had been brought.It had been his advice to the Minister for Justice, so glaring was the miscarriage of justice to which he referred, that the whole of the jurymen who had sat upon that trial should be struck off the roll.This was accordingly done.
He, the judge, was perfectly convinced in his own mind that no impropriety of this sort was likely to be committed by the intelligent, respectable jury whom he saw before him;but it was his duty to warn them that, in his opinion, they could not bring in any verdict but `Guilty' if they respected their oaths.
He should leave the case confidently in their hands, again impressing upon them that they could only find one verdict if they believed the evidence.
The jury all went out.Then another case was called on, and a fresh jury sworn in for to try it.We sat in the dock.The judge told Starlight he might sit down, and we waited till they came back.
I really believe that waiting is the worst part of the whole thing, the bitterest part of the punishment.I've seen men when they were being tried for their lives -- haven't I done it, and gone through it myself? --waiting there an hour -- two hours, half through the night, not knowing whether they was to be brought in guilty or not.
What a hell they must have gone through in that time -- doubt and dread, hope and fear, wretchedness and despair, over and over and over again.
No wonder some of 'em can't stand it, but keeps twitching and shifting and getting paler and turning faint when the jury comes back, and they think they see one thing or the other written in their faces.
I've seen a strong man drop down like a dead body when the judge opened his mouth to pass sentence on him.I've seen 'em faint, too, when the foreman of the jury said `Not guilty.' One chap, he was an innocent up-country fellow, in for his first bit of duffing, like we was once, he covered his face with his hands when he found he was let off, and cried like a child.All sorts and kinds of different ways men takes it.I was in court once when the judge asked a man who'd just been found guilty if he'd anything to say why he shouldn't pass sentence of death upon him.He'd killed a woman, cut her throat, and a regular right down cruel murder it was (only men 'll kill women and one another, too, for some causes, as long as the world lasts);and he just leaned over the dock rails, as if he'd been going to get three months, and said, cool and quiet, `No, your Honour;not as I know of.' He'd made up his mind to it from the first, you see, and that makes all the difference.He knew he hadn't the ghost of a chance to get out of it, and when his time came he faced it.I remember seeing his worst enemy come into the court, and sit and look at him then just to see how he took it, but he didn't make the least sign.
That man couldn't have told whether he seen him or not.
Starlight and I wasn't likely to break down -- not much --whatever the jury did or the judge said.All the same, after an hour had passed, and we still waiting there, it began to be a sickening kind of feeling.The day had been all taken up with the evidence and the rest of the trial; all long, dragging hours of a hot summer's day.The sun had been blazing away all day on the iron roof of the courthouse and the red dust of the streets, that lay inches deep for a mile all round the town.The flies buzzed all over the courthouse, and round and round, while the lawyers talked and wrangled with each other; and still the trial went on.
Witness after witness was called, and cross-examined and bullied, and confused and contradicted till he was afraid to say what he knew or what he didn't know.I began to think it must be some kind of performance that would go on for ever and never stop, and the day and it never could end.
At last the sun came shining level with the lower window, and we knew it was getting late.After a while the twilight began to get dimmer and grayer.There isn't much out there when the sun goes down.
Then the judge ordered the lamps to be lighted.
Just at that time the bailiff came forward.
`Your Honour, the jury has agreed.' I felt my teeth shut hard;but I made no move or sign.I looked over at Starlight.He yawned.
He did, as I'm alive.
`I wish to heaven they'd make more haste,' he said quietly;`his Honour and we are both being done out of our dinners.'
I said nothing.I was looking at the foreman's face.I thought I knew the word he was going to say, and that word was `Guilty.' Sure enough I didn't hear anything more for a bit.I don't mind owning that.
Most men feel that way the first time.There was a sound like rushing waters in my ears, and the courthouse and the people all swam before my eyes.
