"Right," whispered back Bud. "It's got to be our word against the word of those two cowardly villains, I reckon," and he glared furiously in the direction of the two men. "We've just got to beat them some way," and his young face grew grim and stern.
By this time the jurymen had all seated themselves comfortably on the ground on both sides of the alcalde, and were ready to hear the testimony.
"You may step forward and be sworn," and the alcalde's eyes signaled out the big man with a broken nose.
The man stepped up in front of the alcalde, who sat on a stump, with a barrel standing on end in front of him and an old worn Bible lying on top of the barrel.
"Hold up your right hand," commanded the alcalde, his keen eyes fixing themselves sternly on the red, brutal face; "and repeat the oath after me."
The man's right hand went up with a sort of spasmodic jerk.
"I do solemnly swear," began the alcalde slowly, "that the testimony I am about to give in the case now before the court, shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; and may God eternally damn my soul, if I knowingly utter a false word."
Hesitatingly and with a whitening face, the man slowly repeated this oath.
"Kiss the Bible," commanded the alcalde; "and may God blister the lips that have touched His holy book, if they suffer a false word to pass between them."
The man hesitated a moment: and then, at a muttered objurgation from his companion, he bent and hastily pressed his lips against the cover of the holy book.