Oberlies owned a beautiful farm and lived in a big white house set on a hill, with a fine orchard, rows of beehives, barns, granaries, and poultry yards.  He raised turkeys and tumbler-pigeons, and many geese and ducks swam about on his cattleponds.  He used to boast that he had six sons, “like our German Emperor.”  His neighbours were proud of his place, and pointed it out to strangers.  They told how Oberlies had come to Frankfort county a poor man, and had made his fortune by his industry and intelligence.  He had twice crossed the ocean to re-visit his fatherland, and when he returned to his home on the prairies he brought presents for every one; his lawyer, his banker, and the merchants with whom he dealt in Frankfort and Vicount.  Each of his neighbours had in his parlour some piece of woodcarving or weaving, or some ingenious mechanical toy that Oberlies had picked up in Germany.  He was an older man than Yoeder, wore a short beard that was white and curly, like his hair, and though he was low in stature, his puffy red face and full blue eyes, and a certain swagger about his carriage, gave him a look of importance.  He was boastful and quick-tempered, but until the war broke out in Europe nobody had ever had any trouble with him.  Since then he had constantly found fault and complained,—­everything was better in the Old Country.

Mr. Wheeler had come to town prepared to lend Yoeder a hand if he needed one.  They had worked adjoining fields for thirty years now.  He was surprised that his neighbour had got into trouble.  He was not a blusterer, like Oberlies, but a big, quiet man, with a serious, large-featured face, and a stern mouth that seldom opened.  His countenance might have been cut out of red sandstone, it was so heavy and fixed.  He and Oberlies sat on two wooden chairs outside the railing of the judge’s desk.

Presently the judge stopped writing and said he would hear the charges against Troilus Oberlies.  Several neighbours took the stand in succession; their complaints were confused and almost humorous.  Oberlies had said the United States would be licked, and that would be a good thing; America was a great country, but it was run by fools, and to be governed by Germany was the best thing that could happen to it.  The witness went on to say that since Oberlies had made his money in this country—­

Here the judge interrupted him.  “Please confine yourself to statements which you consider disloyal, made in your presence by the defendant.”  While the witness proceeded, the judge took off his glasses and laid them on the desk and began to polish the lenses with a silk handkerchief, trying them, and rubbing them again, as if he desired to see clearly.

A second witness had heard Oberlies say he hoped the German submarines would sink a few troopships; that would frighten the Americans and teach them to stay at home and mind their own business.  A third complained that on Sunday afternoons the old man sat on his front porch and played Die Wacht am Rhein on a slide-trombone, to the great annoyance of his neighbours.  Here Nat Wheeler slapped his knee with a loud guffaw, and a titter ran through the courtroom.  The defendant’s puffy red cheeks seemed fashioned by his Maker to give voice to that piercing instrument.