The court-house in the wilderness stood quite alone, with no other
building near. There was not even a fence round it, nor so much as a
hitching-post in front of the rude door which was rarely closed. Those
who came--the judge, the jury, the lawyers, the clients, the
spectators--all hitched their horses to the swinging limbs of the trees.
The sole sign of man's handiwork, beyond the log walls of the
court-house itself, was a crude attempt at bridge-building. A creek ran
between the court-house and the home of Judge Knox, who was the judge of
the court, and over this a few rough boards had been loosely laid across
two rotting logs. The structure being both weak and unsteady, it was the
judge's habit to dismount on coming to the bridge and to cross it on
foot, leading his horse by the bridle. It was then but a stone's throw
to the court-house, and as he was heavy, clumsy, and an awkward rider,
he did not mount again, but walked on till he came to the spot where he
always stopped to tie the bridle to the same limb. And there he
invariably tied it in his absent-minded way, without ever thinking of
looking round to see if the horse was tied with the bridle.
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