o send
for Indian Bill; they made a pretense of doing so, but the trapper was
far from human reach, far up in the wilderness beyond El Capitan. All
Job could do was to pray and wait, little caring what the outcome
might be, little caring what might be the verdict of the world of Gold
City; knowing only two things--that Jane was dead and life could never
be the same to him; and that the God who looked down in tender
compassion on his child shut in between those dark stone walls, knew
all about it. Job had read how one like unto an angel walked in the
furnace of old with God's saints; he felt, now, that the Christ came
and sat by his side in those lonely prison hours.

* * * * *

It was Monday, the ninth of August. The sun's rays beat down on the
dusty streets of Gold City and glared from the white walls of the
court house. At ten o'clock the trial would commence--the great trial
of "The State vs. Job Teale Malden." The streets were thronged with
vehicles; it was like one of the old-time Sunday picnics, only saint
as well as sinner was here. The Yellow Jacket had closed down by
common consent of all, and hundreds of workingmen were pouring into
town in stages and buckboards, on horseback and on foot. The old court
house was packed to its utmost capacity; the gallery and stairs were
one mass of writhing humanity. Outside, they stood like a great
encampment, stretching away, filling the whole square. Still they came
from Mormon Bar and Wawona--the greatest throng in the history of
Grizzly county; men, women, and children in arms--all to see Job
Malden tried for his life.

Through this crowd, Andrew Malden, leaning on his cane, passed in at
the great door by Tony's side. The crowd was silent as he passed. Some
muttered under their breath; some lifted their hats. That worn, gaunt
face startled them all. It was through this same crowd that Tom Reed,
with darkened brow, and Dan Dean, limping on his crutches, passed in
together.

The clock in the tower struck ten. Job in his cell heard it above the
din of innumerable feet passing over his head; heard it and knelt in
an earnest prayer for grace to bear whatever might come; to suffer and
be still as his Master did of old. He had gone all over it again and
again; they knew his story of the walk down the canyon trail with
Indian Bill, but even the lawyer doubted it. If they knew of Glacier
Point and the betrothal, they might believe him. Should he