He was a short, squat-built, villainous-looking fellow of perhaps forty years, although strong drink and excesses may have contributed several of them. He cast a sidelong, sneaking glance at Poynter, and then suddenly averted his head.
The prisoner made a sudden motion as if about to speak, but then sunk back once more, his eyes steadily fixed upon Green's face.
This action was not unnoted by the jurors, and more than one thought they could discern a shudder pass over his form, as he darted a peculiar look at the witness. But then, in imitation of a legal court, Green was sworn, and proceeded to give in his testimony.
"Yas, 'ir, I'll tell ye the hull truth, jist es straight es a dogwood, ef on'y you'll promus 'at no harm 'll come arter it. He's mighty rambunctious, he is, when his mad's up."
"Never you mind about that, sir," impatiently said McGuire, "but give in your testimony."
"Wal, ef I must, why, so be it. I've knowed the pris'ner thar a consid'able spell, ef not longer. Me 'n' him usen to be gre't fri'nds an' pardners like, back to ol' Kaintuck—"
"Gentlemen, is this scoundrelly liar brought here to swear away my life? As I live, I have never seen the fellow half a dozen times; I didn't even know his name, beyond that of 'Lying Jack,' and never spoke a word to him in my life!" exclaimed the prisoner, hotly.
"Silence!" ordered the judge.
"Hyar's my hat," put in Green, extending the rag that answered that purpose, with a comical leer. "I never told a bigger lie 'n thet in my life!"
"Witness, you will go on with your evidence, or, by all that's good, I'll give you a taste of hickory oil!" thundered the judge.