“The trile will go on,” said he.

“Then, your Honor,” cried Dan Andersen, springing to his feet, “then I shall resort to the ancient bulwark of our personal liberties.  I shall sue out a writ of habeas corpus, and take this prisoner out of custody.  I’ll sue this court on its bond!  I’ll take a change of venue!  We’ll leave no stone unturned to set this innocent man free and restore him to the bosom of his family!”

This speech produced a great effect on the audience, as murmurs of approbation testified, but the doughty Justice of the Peace was not so easily to be reckoned with.  He pointed out that there was no officer to serve a writ of habeas corpus; that the court had given no bond to anybody and did not propose to do so; that there was no other court to which to apply for a change of “vendew,” as he termed it; and reiterated once more that the “trile must go on.”  The prosecution was, therefore, once more called upon to state the case.  Again the attorney for the defence protested, a foreshadowing of his fighting blood reddening his face.

“I call for a jury,” said he.  “Does this court suppose we are going to leave the liberty of this prisoner in the hands of a judge openly and notoriously prejudiced as to the facts of this case?  I demand a trial by a jury of the defendant’s peers.”

Blackman reddened, but was game.  “Jury goes,” said he.  “Count out twelve fellers there, beginnin’ next the door.”

“Twelve!” said Dan Andersen, for the moment almost losing his gravity.  “I thought this court might be content with six for a justice’s jury; but realizing the importance of this court, we are willing to agree on twelve.”

It was so agreed.  The jury took in every man in the little room but three.  “They’ll do for a veniry,” said Blackman, J. P., learnedly.  Under the circumstances, one can perhaps forgive him for becoming at times a trifle mixed as to the legal proceedings.

At least, it was easy to agree as to the jury; for obviously the population of the place was fully acquainted with all the facts in the case, and each one had freely expressed his opinion upon the one side or the other.  There seemed to be no reason for excusing any juror for cause; and upon the other hand, there are often very good reasons in a Land Before the Law for not bringing up personal matters of this kind.  Indeed, the trial judge settled all that.  He looked over the twelve good men and true thus segregated, and remarked briefly:  “They’re his peers, all right.  The trile will now proceed.”

Whereupon he swore them solemnly and made a record in his fee book, to the later consternation of his jurors.  “Ain’t this court a notary, too?” said Blackman later.  “And ain’t a notary entitled to so much fee for administerin’ a oath?  And didn’t I administer twelve oaths?” There was small answer to this, after all.  The laborer is worthy of his hire; and Blackman really labored in this case as in all likelihood few justices have before or since.