The brow of the hill which they were now
descending hid the house at last from sight, and, with tear-blinded
eyes, Ralph turned his face again toward the city, toward the misery
of the court-room, toward the desolate and dreadful prospect of a life
with Simon Craft.
CHAPTER XIX.
BACK TO THE BREAKER.
It was a dull day in the court-room at Wilkesbarre. The jury trials
had all been disposed of, and for the last hour or more the court
had been listening to an argument on a rule for a new trial in an
ejectment case. It was a very uninteresting matter. Every one had
left the court-room with the exception of the court officers, a few
lawyers, and a half-dozen spectators who seemed to be there for the
purpose of resting on the benches rather than with any desire to hear
the proceedings before the court.
The lawyers on both sides had concluded their arguments, and the judge
was bundling together the papers in the case and trying to encircle
the bulky package with a heavy rubber band.
Then the court-room door was opened, and the sheriff came down the
aisle, accompanied by Ralph and Bachelor Billy. A moment later, Simon
Craft followed them to the bar. Sharpman, who was sitting inside the
railing by a table, looked up with disgust plainly marked on his face
as the old man entered and sat down beside him.
He had prepared the petition for a writ of _habeas corpus_, at Craft's
request, and had agreed to appear in his behalf when the writ should
be returned.
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