"What the devil is the cable for?" said Mr. Bowdoin.
The crowd, which had opened to let the well-known judge go by, were now crying, "Let the judge in! Let the judge in!" and then, "Give him up! Give Simms up! Give him to the sheriff!" and then, "Kidnapped! Kidnapped!" Just ahead of them our party saw another judge stopped rudely before the door by a soldier dropping a bayonet across his breast.
"Can't get in here,—can't get in here."
"I tell you I'm a judge of the Supreme Court of this Commonwealth," they heard him say.
"Go around, then, and get under the chain. But the court can't sit to-day." Mr. Bowdoin bubbled with indignation as he saw the old man take off his high hat, and, stooping low, bow his white hairs to get beneath the chain.
"If I do, I'm damned," said Mr. Bowdoin quietly.
"And if I do, I'm—Drop it down, sir, and let me pass: Judge Wells, of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts."
"And I'm James Bowdoin, of James Bowdoin's Sons, and a good Democrat, and defendant in a confounded lawsuit before his honor."
"Courts can't sit to-day. Keep back."
"They can't?" cried Mr. Bowdoin. "Since when do the courts of Massachusetts ask permission of a pack of slave-hunters whether they shall sit or not?"