It's
only necessary. For my part--"
"Buck Hightower," says Will, pounding on the
desk, "you will please come to order." Which
Buck done it.
"Now," says the chairman, turning toward
Doctor Kirby, who had been setting there looking
thoughtful from one man to another, like he was
sizing each one up, "now I must explain to the
chief defendant that we don't intend to lynch him."
He stopped a second on that word LYNCH as if
to let it soak in. The doctor, he bowed toward
him very cool and ceremonious, and says, mocking
of him:
"You reassure me, Mister--Mister--What is
your name?" He said it in a way that would of
made a saint mad.
"My name ain't any difference," says Will, trying
not to show he was nettled.
"You are quite right," says the doctor, looking
Will up and down from head to foot, very slow and
insulting, "it's of no consequence in the world."
Will, he flushed up, but he makes himself steady
and cool, and he goes on with his little speech:
"There is to be no lynching here to-night. There
is to be a trial, and, if necessary, an execution."
"Would it be asking too much," says the
doctor very polite, "if I were to inquire who is
to be tried, and before what court, and upon what
charge?"
There was a clearing of throats and a shuffling of
feet fur a minute.
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