Whereat, amid cheers, he was voted to the chair on the bed, where he sat rather precariously, and ordered silence in the court.
"Who is the prisoner ?" "Go on, kid, tell 'em your name," said Percy, encouragingly.
"Fisher minor--really I didn't do anything," said the prisoner.
"What's the charge ?" said the judge.
"You see, it's this way," said Percy, forgetting to go inside the fender--"Bam, and Cot, and Lick and I were having a ripping eight-handed mill in here the other day--" The prisoner thought over all his crimes, and could recall nothing that was even remotely connected with an eight-handed mill.
"Cot and Lick had got gloves with no horse-hair in them, you know, so they lammed it pretty hard; but Ram and I were just scrunching them up--" "Crams! You never got near us.

My nose wasn't hit once," said Cottle.
"No; but we had you in the ribs." "Under the belt," ejaculated Lickford.
"No, it wasn't--I say, Dangle," said the witness, "it was just on his waistcoat pocket, and he says that's below the belt.

If he likes to wear his belt round his neck, of course he gets hit under." "And if you wear yours round your ankle, there's not much room for your bread-basket," retorted Cottle.
"And where does Fisher minor come in ?" asked the judge; "was he in the middle of the mill ?" "No.

You see, we were just in the middle of it, and these jolly cheats were beginning to cave in--" "Ho, ho!--It would take a lot more than you to make us--" "Order in the court--go on, Wheatfield." "There you are--shut up, you chaps--beginning to cave in, when Clapperton yelled for me, and I had to go." "Lucky job for you," growled Cottle.

"You wouldn't have been able to go at all five minutes later." Whereupon Percy appealed to the court to keep order.
"Fire away," said the judge, "that's nothing to do with the prisoner." "Oh, hasn't it!--You see, Clapperton wanted me to take a letter to Yorke.