What he did not understand was not heard, for Thompson seized the prisoner before he could finish his sentence, and, with a grip of steel on his arm, hustled him down the aisle and out of the court-room.
A good many persons poured out of the court-room after them and with subdued laughter followed the Sheriff and his charge across the green. Thompson, however, did not wait for them. The young man appeared inclined to argue. But the Sheriff gave him no time. Hurrying him down the walk, he unhitched his horse for him and ordered him to mount.
“But, Sheriff—Mr. Thompson, I 'm darned if I understand what it is all about.”
“You were drunk,” said Thompson—“flagrantly inebriated. Go home. Did n't you hear the Judge?”
“Yes, I heard him. He 's doty. I might have been drunk, but I 'm darned if I slept in jail last night—I slept in——”
“I 'm darned if you did n't,” said the Sheriff. “The Judge has ruled it so, and so you did. Now go home and don't you come back here again during this term, or you will sleep in jail again.”
“That old Judge is doty,” declared the young man with a tone of conviction.
“So much the worse for you if you come back here. Go home now, just as quick as you can.”
Creel reflected for a moment.
“Well, it beats my time. I 'll tell you what I 'll do, Mr. Thompson,” he said, half pleadingly. “I 'll go home and stay there if you will promise not to tell my wife I was in jail.”