red in a
voice that shook in spite of all that he could do: "Who gave you--where
did you get that?"

"It's yours, aint it? Got your name on, anyway," said Ike. "Where did
you leave it?"

"Don't know," said Crawley, turning green with terror.

"Gentlemen," said Ike, addressing the crowd, "I aint agoin' to make no
speech to this jury, but I want to remark that this here blank reptile
is a blank liar, and if he aint a murderer 'taint his fault. That there
pouch of his," continued Ike, putting a long forefinger down upon the
article lying on the table, "that there pouch of his was found by the
'Prospector,' as Perault calls him, beside that there empty cache.
That's all I have to say." And Ike turned and walked slowly back to his
seat.

In vain the trembling wretch tried first to bluster and then to
explain. Carroll was again summoned and affirmed emphatically that he
and Crawley had been separated for the greater part of one day, and
that while together they had not approached Mr. Macgregor's camp.

"That will do, Carroll," said Sinclair quietly. "We believe you
entirely, and I would like to say that for my part I am mighty glad
that you are entirely freed from suspicion."

"That's so, you bet!" came from the men on all sides, as one by one
they stepped forward to shake Carroll warmly by the hand.

"Now, gentlemen," said Sinclair, "make your decision. This man,"
pointing to Crawley, "is charged with a serious crime. What is your
verdict?"

One by one the men threw into the hat on the table a bit of paper. In
silence Sinclair and The Kid read and recorded the ballots. When they
had finished Sinclair stood up, looking sternly at Crawley, and said:

"Mr. Crawley, this Committee say unanimously that you are guilty. Have
you anything to say before sentence is pronounced?"

The wretched creature fell on his knees with tears and cries entreating
mercy.

"Take him away," said Sinclair sternly. "Now, gentlemen, what have you
to say? What shall be done to this man whom you have decided to be
guilty of murder?"

The discussion which followed was long and bitter. Sinclair and those
who had come more recently to the country were for handing him over to
the police.

"What's the good of that, Sinclair?" demanded Macnamara, one of the
old-timers.

"Well, he'll get justice sure; he'll get sent up."

"Don't know about that," said Ike. "You see, you can't prove anything
but stealin', and you can't prove that, for sure. T