He stood aside for Andy to step out. An officer Andy had not seen before took him by the arm and led him up two flights of stairs to a large courtroom.
It had no visitors, but the judge sat on the bench. Near him was the prosecuting attorney and the court clerk. Talbot occupied a chair, and conversing with him was Farmer Jones.
“We enter the appearance of the prisoner in this case, your honor,” immediately spoke the attorney, as if in a hurry to get through with the formalities.
“Let the clerk enter the same,” ordered the judge in an indifferent tone. “Take the prisoner before the grand jury when it convenes.”
“In the matter of bail——” again spoke the attorney.
“Arson. A pretty serious offense,” said the judge. “The prisoner is held over in bonds of two thousand dollars.”
Andy’s heart sank. He had heard and read of cases where generally a few hundred dollars bail was asked. He had even calculated in his mind how he could call friends to his assistance who would go his surety for a small amount, but two thousand dollars.
“How are you, Andy?” said Jones, advancing and looking him over critically. Andy was a trifle pale, but his bearing was manly, his countenance open and honest. He was neatly dressed, and looked the energetic business boy all over, and evidently impressed the farmer that way.
“I’m glad to see you, Mr. Jones,” he said respectfully.