"Wal!" heaved Buzzlebaum.
"No wals here; you're sworn now; out with it. Didn't you tell old Soper, if she warn't so old and rusty-like, you'd strike, hit or miss? What, sir?"
"Wal!" groaned Buzzlebaum again.
"Guilty as a dog; won't answer; is a-goin'-ter die game, right inter the face of the court," exclaimed Ike.
Mr. Buzzlebaum began to scratch his head, and just got an idea of what "sot up" meant, and declared, "he'd never sot up with Miss Beadle, nor nobody else, but he warn't goin' to answer any more questions;" and asking another juryman for his hat, which stood among a huddle of hats outside the jury-box, "leaned" for the door, amid the cries of the court, clerk, Bates, &c., of "hold on," "don't go," "stop him," "bring him back, sheriff," &c. But Buzzlebaum didn't return.
The next juryman who Ike thought was "dang-rous," was Mr. Tumbleton.
"Mr. Tumbleton," exclaimed Ike, "form'd or 'spressed any 'pinion in this case?"
"No, sir!"
"Hain't form'd nor 'spressed any?"