In the middle of all this up got that horrible Prosecutor again, waving his arms more wildly than ever.

“Your Honor,” he cried, “I must object to this evidence as biased.  Of course the dog would not tell the truth against his own master.  I object.  I protest.”

“Very well,” said the judge, “you are at liberty to cross-examine.  It is your duty as Prosecutor to prove his evidence untrue.  There is the dog:  question him, if you do not believe what he says.”

I thought the long-nosed lawyer would have a fit.  He looked first at the dog, then at the Doctor, then at the judge, then back at the dog scowling from the witness-box.  He opened his mouth to say something; but no words came.  He waved his arms some more.  His face got redder and redder.  At last, clutching his forehead, he sank weakly into his seat and had to be helped out of the court-room by two friends.  As he was half carried through the door he was still feebly murmuring, “I protest—­I object—­I protest!”

THE EIGHTH CHAPTER

THREE CHEERS

Next the judge made a very long speech to the jury; and when it was over all the twelve jurymen got up and went out into the next room.  And at that point the Doctor came back, leading Bob, to the seat beside me.

“What have the jurymen gone out for?” I asked.

“They always do that at the end of a trial—­to make up their minds whether the prisoner did it or not.”

“Couldn’t you and Bob go in with them and help them make up their minds the right way?” I asked.

“No, that’s not allowed.  They have to talk it over in secret.  Sometimes it takes—­My Gracious, look, they’re coming back already!  They didn’t spend long over it.”

Everybody kept quite still while the twelve men came tramping back into their places in the pews.  Then one of them, the leader—­a little man—­ stood up and turned to the judge.  Every one was holding his breath, especially the Doctor and myself, to see what he was going to say.  You could have heard a pin drop while the whole court-room, the whole of Puddleby in fact, waited with craning necks and straining cars to hear the weighty words.

“Your Honor,” said the little man, “the jury returns a verdict of not guilty.”

“What’s that mean?” I asked, turning to the Doctor.

But I found Doctor John Dolittle, the famous naturalist, standing on top of a chair, dancing about on one leg like a schoolboy.

“It means he’s free!” he cried, “Luke is free!”

“Then he’ll be able to come on the voyage with us, won’t he?”

But I could not hear his answer; for the whole court-room seemed to be jumping up on chairs like the Doctor.  The crowd had suddenly gone crazy.  All the people were laughing and calling and waving to Luke to show him how glad they were that he was free.  The noise was deafening.