"They are all here except James, Thatcher and Wheeler," Judge Ridgway was saying to the sheriff, who had stepped to his side. "To-morrow you can send a party in to round them up."
Then followed the rare spectacle of a Judge "holdin' court right dere in de open pine woods"—to quote from July's later description. For Ted and Hubert had brought up the "prisoners of war."
"Mr. Jenkins and Mr. Carter," said Ted, presenting them.
"Good names that have not been honored," Judge Ridgway sternly commented, looking the prisoners up and down with a keen, appraising eye. "I imagine that you haven't much to say for yourselves, for there isn't much to be said. Have you had enough of dodging the law of the land and shirking your duty, hidden like thieves in a swamp? Are you ready to register and go to the war when called?"
"Yes, sir," answered Jenkins and Carter in a breath.
"That's the main requisite, and the situation is now practically in your own hands, for, as the higher authorities have wisely said, what the country wants is full armies, not full jails. Take them in charge, Mr. Sheriff. I will only say further that I should like to see them given every chance, Mr. Jenkins especially, for whom my dear boys have spoken a good word."
When the "prisoners of war" had stepped apart in the company of the deputies, Jenkins exchanging a parting smile with Ted as he went, Judge Ridgway spoke again to the sheriff:
"I want the other three young men to spend the night at my house. Their case is different. I think also that I'll have my servants put up the young negro for the night—my boys are so grateful to him. I will be responsible for the four and see that they are registered to-morrow."
"All right, Judge," said the sheriff, and, saluting, he marched off with his deputies and the "prisoners of war."
Judge Ridgway rose from his seat, smiling, as Ted and Hubert brought up their three friends and introduced them. He shook hands first with Peters and then with Jones, saying: