The "long-room" was that in which we saw the first meeting of the vigilantes, and as all entered, the door was closed and securely bolted, thus guarding against any intrusion. The long table was pushed along until it touched the further end of the wall, and upon this a single chair was placed. Then a similar one was stood near the other extremity for the prisoner's use.
"Now, gentlemen," said Neil McGuire, "we will vote for a judge to try the case."
By universal acclamation he was elected, and at once took his seat, when Poynter was directed to assume his position. After some few objections by the prisoner, a jury was chosen and ranged alongside the judge, who then spoke:
"You know the task that is before you, and the sooner it is over the better. We will—"
"One moment, Mr. McGuire—or I presume I should say your honor," interrupted Poynter, with an ironical bow. "You call this a trial, but is it not altogether one-sided? Here I am arrested, for what I know not; already treated like a felon. Is this your idea of justice?"
"You speak warmly, Mr. Poynter—"
"And why not? You are all leagued against me, and so far as I can see, do not intend giving me a chance to clear myself from any charge you may bring against me. If I am to be tried, I demand it shall be according to law, and that I have counsel; that I am informed what crime I am accused of, and allowed time to procure witnesses!" hotly exclaimed the prisoner.
"You shall have full justice, but we have no need for lawyers here. The truth alone shall acquit or condemn you. You can defend yourself, and if any witnesses are necessary, they shall be sent for. If you are shown to be innocent, then any reparation you demand shall be given, but if guilty, by the God that made me, you shall swing for it, if I have to drag the rope myself!"
"One would think I was already condemned, by the way you speak; but go on. What are your charges?"
"Polk Redlaw!"