tell it?
All night he had paced the cell wondering if he ought--if he could. As
he knelt in that hour, he resolved that, though it would save his
life, no human ear should ever hear that sacred secret. That hour on
Glacier Point should be unveiled to no human eye, but remain locked in
the chambers of his soul, known only to God and her who waited yonder
for his coming.

It was near noon when the judge ascended the bench. The hubbub of
voices ceased, the case was called, the rear door opened, and, led in
by the sheriff, handcuffed and guarded, with calm, white face, yet
never faltering in step or look, Job Malden walked across the floor to
the prisoner's seat, while the crowd gazed in curiosity, that soon
changed to awe and reverence, at that grave face, so deeply marked
with scars of grief.

It was a strange scene that met Job's gaze. All the familiar faces
were there--Aunty Perkins and Tim's father; Dean and O'Donnell glaring
at him; poor old Andrew Malden leaning on his cane; Tony and Hans and
Tom Reed and--oh, no! Jane was not there, but gone forever from Gold
City and its strange, hard life. A tear stole down the prisoner's
cheek--he wiped it away. His enemies saw it and winked. Tim's father
saw it and moaned aloud. The clock struck twelve in the high tower,
and proceedings began.

It was two days before the trial was well under way. The quibbling of
the lawyers, the choosing of a jury, the hearing of the witnesses who
had found the wounded, silent form of Jane Reed on the rocks beneath
the famous Point, filled the hours. Morning after morning, the scenes
of that first day were repeated in the court room; the great crowds,
the intense excitement, the friends and enemies intently listening to
every word and watching every movement of the prisoner. And calm and
still, with never a sign of fear or shame on his face, Job Malden sat
in that court room hour after hour, and One unseen stood at his side.

On the third day the prosecution began to weave its web of
circumstantial evidence about Job. How shrewd it was! How carefully
each suspicious incident was told and retold! How meanly everything
bad in his life was emphasized, everything good forgotten! They
brought the tales of long-ago years when he was a mere boy. They
proved that the passionate blood of a gambler was in his veins; that
his father before him had shot a companion. The story of the
horse-race and escapades of the reckless days of old were rehearsed