“He’s the same feller, an’ no mistake, if so be he hain’t slipped his skin,” said Jim, “an’ no triflin’.  I make my Happy David on’t.”

“Did Mr. Belcher ever send into the woods to find him?’”

“Yis,” said Jim, laughing, “but I choked ’em off.”

“How did you choke them off?”

“I telled ’em both I’d lick ’em if they ever blowed.  They didn’t want to blow any, to speak on, but Mike Conlin come in with a hundred dollars of Belcher’s money in his jacket, an’ helped me nuss my man for a week; an’ I got a Happy David out o’ Sam Yates, an’ ther’s the dockyment;” and Jim drew from his pocket the instrument with which the reader is already familiar.

Mr. Balfour had seen the paper, and told Jim that it was not necessary in the case.  Mr. Belcher looked very red in the face, and leaned over and whispered to his lawyer.

“That is all,” said Mr. Balfour.

Mr. Cavendish rose.  “You helped Mr. Benedict to escape, did you, Jim?”

“I said so,” replied Jim.

“Did you steal the key when you were there first?”

“No; I borrered it, an’ brung it back an left it in the door.”

“Did you undo the fastenings of the outside door?”

“Yis, an’ I did ’em up agin.”

“Did you break down the grated door?”

“I remember about somethin’ squeakin’ an’ givin’ ’way,” replied Jim, with a smile.  “It was purty dark, an’ I couldn’t see ’xactly what was a goin’ on.”

“Oh you couldn’t!  We have your confession, then, that you are a thief and a burglar, and that you couldn’t see the man you took out.”

“Well, now, Squar, that won’t help ye any.  Benedict is the man as got away, an’ I saved the town the board of two paupers an’ the cost of two pine coffins, an’ sent old Buffum where he belonged, an’ nobody cried but his pertickler friend as sets next to ye.”

“I beg the Court’s protection for my client, against the insults of this witness,” said Mr. Cavendish.

“When a man calls Jim Fenton a thief an’ a buggler, he must take what comes on’t,” said Jim.  “Ye may thank yer everlastin’ stars that ye didn’t say that to me in the street, for I should ’a licked ye.  I should ‘a fastened that slippery old scalp o’ yourn tighter nor a drum-head.”

“Witness,” said the Judge, peremptorily, “you forget where you are, sir.  You must stop these remarks.”

“Jedge look ’ere!  When a man is insulted by a lawyer in court, what can he do?  I’m a reasomble man, but I can’t take anybody’s sarse.  It does seem to me as if a lawyer as snubs a witness an calls ’im names, wants dressin’ down too.  Give Jim Fenton a fair shake, an’ he’s all right.”

Jim’s genial nature and his irrepressible tongue were too much for the court and the lawyers together.  Mr. Cavendish writhed in his seat.  He could do nothing with Jim.  He could neither scare nor control him, and saw that the witness was only anxious for another encounter.  It was too evident that the sympathy of the jury and the increasing throng of spectators was with the witness, and that they took delight in the discomfiture of the defendant’s counsel.