Hank came forward sheepishly, and was sworn.  Lived about a hundred yards from the house that was robbed.  He seen ole man Pearson and the master and one other feller that he didn’t know come away from there together about one o’clock.  He heerd the horses kickin’, and went out to the stable to see about them.  He seed two men come out of Schroeder’s back door and meet one man standing at the gate.  When they got closter he knowed Pearson by his wooden leg and the master by his hat.  On cross-examination he was a little confused when asked why he hadn’t told of it before, but said that he was afraid to say much, bekase the folks was a-talkin’ about hanging the master, and he didn’t want no lynchin’.

The prosecution here rested, Bronson maintaining that there was enough evidence to justify Ralph’s committal to await trial.  But the court thought that as the defendant had no counsel and offered no rebutting testimony, it would be only fair to hear what the prisoner had to say in his own defense.

All this while poor Ralph was looking about the room for Bud.  Bud’s actions had of late been strangely contradictory.  But had he turned coward and deserted his friend?  Why else did he avoid the session of the court?  After asking himself such questions as these, Ralph would wonder at his own folly.  What could Bud do if he were there?  There was no human power that could prevent the victim of so vile a conspiracy as this, lodging in that worst of State prisons at Jeffersonville, a place too bad for criminals.  But when there is no human power to help, how naturally does the human mind look for some divine intervention on the side of Right!  And Ralph’s faith in Providence looked in the direction of Bud.  But since no Bud came, he shut down the valves and rose to his feet, proudly, defiantly, fiercely calm.

“It’s of no use for me to say anything.  Peter Jones has sworn to a deliberate falsehood, and he knows it.  He has made his wife perjure her poor soul that she dare not call her own.”  Here Pete’s fists clenched, but Ralph in his present humor did not care for mobs.  The spirit of the bulldog had complete possession of him.  “It is of no use for me to tell you that Henry Banta has sworn to a lie, partly to revenge himself on me for punishments I have given him, and partly, perhaps, for money.  The real thieves are in this court-room.  I could put my finger on them.”

“To be sure,” responded the old basket-maker.  Ralph looked at Pete Jones, then at Small.  The fiercely calm look attracted the attention of the people.  He knew that this look would probably cost him his life before the next morning.  But he did not care for life.  “The testimony of Miss Hannah Thomson is every word true, I believe that of Mr. Pearson to be true.  The rest is false.  But I can not prove it.  I know the men I have to deal with.  I shall not escape with State prison.  They will not spare my life.  But the people of Clifty will one day find out who are the thieves.”