“Of what young fellow do you speak?” inquires the judge.
“The mowstanger thur, in coorse. Him as stan’s ’cused o’ killin’ young Peintdexter.”
“It would be somewhat irregular,” rejoins the judge—“After all, our object is to get at the truth. For my part, I haven’t much faith in old-fashioned forms; and if the jury don’t object, let it be as you say.”
The “twelve,” speaking through their foreman, profess themselves of the same way of thinking. Frontiersmen are not noted for strict adherence to ceremonious forms; and Zeb’s request is conceded nemine dissentiente.
Chapter Eighty Nine.
The Confession of the Accused.
Acting under the advice of his counsel, the accused prepares to avail himself of the advantage thus conceded.
Directed by the judge, he stands forward; the sheriff’s officers in charge falling a step or two into the rear.