"What have you to say for yourselves?" he asked, looking straight at Bo. At first the little boy tried to speak and could not. The court room was still—every one waiting to hear what he was about to say. All at once an idea came to him.
"Please, sir," he trembled, "if you will let my Bear have the violin we will plead our case together."
"What violin? What does the boy mean?" asked the Justice, turning to the constable.
"Oh, an ole fiddle they dropped when they took my clothes. I lef' it down 't the house this morning."
Bo's heart sank. It was their only chance. He was about to give up when suddenly there came another gleam of hope, though very faint. Wheeling quickly toward the sorrow stricken Bear he shouted:—
"Perform for them, Horatio! Perform!"
The words acted on Horatio like a shock of electricity. He straightened up with a snort that caused the crowd to fall back, knocking each other over like dominos. Then he made a bound into the open space and stood on his head. Then with a spring backward he landed on his feet, and waved a bow to the Justice! Another bound and he was walking on his hands and then, after another bow to the Court, he turned a series of somersaults so rapidly that he looked like a great wheel! When he landed on his feet this time, and bowed once more to the Court, the crowd broke out into a mighty cheer of applause.
"Order!" shouted the Justice. "Order!"
It grew still, and the little boy looked at the Court anxiously.
"Please, Your Honor," he said humbly, "that's our case."