The other guards laughed and checked their laughter with a suddenness which made Jack's eyes leave the dancing shadow and seek questioningly the closed tent flaps.
"If I'm any good at reading signs, we are now about to be tried by our peers--twelve good men and true," he announced ironically.

"Brace up, old man! The chances are you'll soon be out of this mess and headed for home.

Don't be afraid to tell the truth--and don't act scared; they'll take that as a sure sign you've got a guilty conscience.

Just keep a stiff upper lip; it won't take long; we do things in a hurry, out here!" "Say, you're a brick, Mr.Allen!" the boy burst out, impulsively gripping the hand of his champion.
Jack jerked his hand away--not unkindly, but rather as if he feared to drop, even for an instant, his flippant defiance of the trick fate had played him.

The jerk sent a small, shining thing sliding down to the floor; where it stood upright and quivered in the soft sand.
"Lord!" he ejaculated under his breath, snatching it up as a thief would snatch at his spoils.