The district attorney made the opening address, giving an outline of the evidence he expected to bring forward to prove the prisoners’ guilt.  Then Lulu was called to the witness stand.

She rose at once and turned to her father, looking a trifle pale, but quite calm and collected.

He took her hand and led her to the little railed platform.  She stepped upon it and he stood near to encourage her by his presence.

“You are very young, my child,” the judge said in a kindly tone, “What do you know of the nature of an oath?”

“I know, sir, that it is a very solemn promise in the presence of the great God, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

“And what will happen to you if you fail to do so, my dear?”

“God will know it, and be angry with me; for he hates lying and has said, ’All liars shall have their part in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone!’”

Lulu’s answers were given in a low, but very distinct tone and in the almost breathless silence were quite audible in every part of the large room.

“Administer the oath to her,” said the judge addressing the clerk of the court, “she is more competent to take it than many an older person.”

When she had done so, “What is your name?” asked the district attorney.

“Lucilla Raymond.”

“You are the daughter of Capt.  Levis Raymond late of United States Navy?”

“Yes, sir, his eldest daughter.”

“How old are you?”

“I was twelve on my last birthday; last summer.”

“Look at the prisoners.  Did you ever see them before?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When and where?”

“The colored man has lived in our family, and I saw him every day for months.”

“And the white man?”

“I have seen him three times before to-day; first on the second day of last January, when my brother and I were riding home through the bit of wood on my father’s estate.  That man was leaning against a tree and my pony nearly stepped on him before I knew he was there, and he seized her bridle and said fiercely, ’Look out there and don’t ride a fellow down!’”

“And what did you answer?”

“Let go of my bridle this instant and get out of the path!”

“Plucky!” laughed some one in the audience.

“What happened next?” asked the lawyer, and Lulu went on to tell the whole story of the adventure in the wood.

“That, you have told us, was your first sight of the prisoner calling himself Perry Davis, when did you see him next? and where?”

“That night, in what we call the strong room where papa’s safe is.”

She was bidden to tell the whole of that story also, and did so in the same clear, straightforward manner in which she had told it in the magistrate’s office, told it simply, artlessly—­as not aware of the bravery and unselfishness of her conduct in attempting the capture of the burglars at the risk of being attacked and murdered by them—­and in the same calm, even, distinct tones in which she had spoken at first.