Much crest-fallen at this decision of the judge, and the very uncomplimentary opinion of himself which he had been forced to listen to, Frank Shirley shrunk back into the crowd from which he had lately emerged with so much confidence.
Even Badger, usually so ready to assert himself, remained dumb in the presence of this strong, brave man.
A young miner, bearing the appropriate name of Clark, was selected as clerk of the court, and then the judge said it was in order to swear in a jury.
"'Cordin' to law," he added, "the prizners has a right to ax the jury questions, and to object to 'em if they doesn't pan out all right. But I hope we'll git along faster'n we've been doin' else this yar trial will last from July to eternity."
As Mr. Willett did not know any of the men who were called to act as jurors, he judged their fitness for the position by their appearance, and so he offered objections to only two, and they were drunk.
It was already noon when the judge declared that all the preliminaries were over, and that he was now prepared to go on with the trial in earnest, "and have justice did to the livin' and the dead."
[CHAPTER XXIV.—OUT OF THE DEPTHS.]
The delight of Sam Willett and his friends at being out of the great cañon compensated them in part for the severe trials through which they had recently passed, and with the disappearance of the stupendous walls of the Colorado they believed all their troubles would vanish.
Daylight convinced them that they had encamped for the night in a spot that seemed like an Eden when compared with their recent resting-places, though back from the charming little valley the rocks rose straight up to a height nearly as great as those of the main river.
Hungry people care more for the quantity than the variety of their food, and so the boys made a hearty breakfast of the goodly supply of broiled rabbits, and then started to find a way out of the valley.