“Well, I guess we’ll make sure it shan’t happen again,” he returned.  “Hi, there, Booth!  Here’s your prisoner come back!”

In a moment the carpenter appeared upon the scene.

“You rascal, you!” he cried in angry tones.  “A fine peck of trouble you’ve got yourself into!”

“What’s all this about?” asked a heavy voice from the stairs, and Judge Penfold stood before me.

“I have brought your prisoner back, judge,” replied Mr. Woodward.

“So I see.  Well, Strong, what have you to say for yourself?  Do you know breaking jail is a serious offence?”

“I don’t know anything about it.  I know I was locked up for nothing at all, and I escaped at the first chance offered.”

“There was no chance offered at all, judge,” broke in Booth, fearful of having a reflection cast upon his character.  “He just went and ripped the hull floor up, that’s what he did.”

“Silence, Booth!  Come upstairs and we will hear the particulars.”

In a moment we were in Judge Penfold’s office.  I was told to take a seat on a bench, with Booth on one side of me and Parsons on the other.

Then Mr. Woodward introduced John Stumpy as a friend from San Antonio, Texas, and the two told their story, corroborated at its end by Farmer Decker, who trembled from head to foot at the idea of addressing as high a dignitary as Judge Penfold.

“What have you to say to this, Strong?” I was asked.

In a plain, straightforward way I told my story from beginning to end, told it in a manner that did not fail to impress nearly every one in the court-room but the judge and my accusers.

Of course Mr. Woodward and John Stumpy stoutly denied all I said, and their denial carried the day.

“Until we can have a real trial I will send you back to jail,” said Judge Penfold.

“Why don’t you send John Stumpy to jail, too?” I asked.  “He is as much accused as I.”

“We have only your word for that.”

“Then let me send for my sister Kate and Dick Blair.”

Judge Penfold rubbed his chin reflectively.

“I think I’ll have to put you under bonds,” he said to John Stumpy.

“Why so?  The boy’s word doesn’t amount to anything,” put in Mr. Woodward.

“Only a matter of form, Mr. Woodward.  I will make it a thousand dollars.  Will you go his bondsman?”

“Of course he will,” said John Stumpy, hastily.  “Won’t you?”

The merchant winced.  “I—­ I guess so,” he stammered.  “But it’s a strange proceeding.”

In a few moments, by the aid of two other men, the bond was made out.

“I will make your bail a thousand dollars also,” said Judge Penfold, turning to me.  “I suppose it’s quite useless though,” he added sarcastically.

“Not quite so useless as you might think,” exclaimed a hearty voice from the rear of the court-room.

I thought I recognized the tones, and turned hastily.  There beside my sister Kate stood my uncle, Enos Moss, of whom I have already spoken.