the State of Colorado against Dennis Rumpety." Then, being
called, Dennis Rumpety walked down the court-room and passed within the
bar.

The man looked fifty or thereabouts; a short, thick-set figure, with a
large head covered with thick iron-gray hair. The smooth-shaven face was
a peculiar one, being broad in its outline, with the features,
especially the eyes, small and close together. The short, bushy eyebrows
met above a fine, clean-cut nose; the jaws were heavy and brutal; yet
the menace of the face was not in these, but in the thin straight lips
which closed like the shears of Fate. A cruel smile gathered about the
lips as he answered the questions of the court. There was something
peculiarly incongruous in the jovial, happy-go-lucky name to which this
man answered.

"Mr. Rumpety," the judge asked, "have you provided yourself with legal
advice?"

"No, your honor," the man replied, with a strong north-country brogue.
"No, sorr! I've got no use for the laryers."

"You are prepared, then, to argue your own case?"

"I lave me case in the hands of me fahmily. Their testimony will clear
me from the false accusations of me innimies. If thim as----"

"That will do, Mr. Rumpety."

"If thim as are----"

"Mr. Rumpety, that will do."

The judge invariably spoke in a low tone of voice, but it was not often
that he had to repeat himself; the voice of authority has a way of
making itself heard.

Rumpety locked his lips again and took his seat. The jury was called, Ed
Rankin's name among the first.

Rankin had not heard a word about the Rumpety case, yet the nature of it
was as clear to him as daylight. This brute was up for cruelty to those
four shivering creatures on the bench in the corner, and they would
never dare testify against their persecutor. In all those abject
countenances there was not one ray of courage visible.

Now began the process of weeding out the jury, which, when it came his
turn, Rumpety performed with a free hand. The prosecution having
dismissed some half-dozen men and "passed" the jury, the defendant began
his inquisition. He asked no unnecessary questions, gave no reasons for
his prejudices, but with unalterable decision declared, "I won't have
that man on the jury at all!" or, "I don't want him: he may go."

Rankin was among the first to be thus summarily rejected, and he joined
the crowd outside the bar, only half contented with his release. He
would have liked "to convict that beast.