urned to Jacob Welse.

St. Vincent sat as one dumfounded. Frona thrust a revolver into his
hand, but his limp fingers refused to close on it.

"Come, Gregory," she entreated. "Quick! Corliss is waiting with the
canoe. Come!"

She shook him, and he managed to grip the weapon. Then she pulled and
tugged, as when awakening a heavy sleeper, till he was on his feet.
But his face was livid, his eyes like a somnambulist's, and he was
afflicted as with a palsy. Still holding him, she took a step backward
for him to come on. He ventured it with a shaking knee. There was no
sound save the heavy breathing of many men. A man coughed slightly and
cleared his throat. It was disquieting, and all eyes centred upon him
rebukingly. The man became embarrassed, and shifted his weight
uneasily to the other leg. Then the heavy breathing settled down again.

St. Vincent took another step, but his fingers relaxed and the revolver
fell with a loud noise to the floor. He made no effort to recover it.
Frona stooped hurriedly, but Pierre La Flitche had set his foot upon
it. She looked up and saw his hands above his head and his eyes fixed
absently on Jacob Welse. She pushed at his leg, and the muscles were
tense and hard, giving the lie to the indifference on his face. St.
Vincent looked down helplessly, as though he could not understand.

But this delay drew the attention of Jacob Welse, and, as he tried to
make out the cause, the chairman found his chance. Without crooking,
his right arm swept out and down, the heavy caulking-mallet leaping
from his hand. It spanned the short distance and smote Jacob Welse
below the ear. His revolver went off as he fell, and John the Swede
grunted and clapped a hand to his thigh.

Simultaneous with this the baron was overcome. Del Bishop, with hands
still above his head and eyes fixed innocently before him, had simply
kicked the pickle-keg out from under the Frenchman and brought him to
the floor. His bullet, however, sped harmlessly through the roof. La
Flitche seized Frona in his arms. St. Vincent, suddenly awakening,
sprang for the door, but was tripped up by the breed's ready foot.

The chairman pounded the table with his fist and concluded his broken
sentence, "Gentlemen, the prisoner is found guilty as charged."

CHAPTER XXIX

Frona had gone at once to her father's side, but he was already
recovering. Courbertin was brought forward with a scratched face,
sprained wri