Calvary was here. The crucifixion hour had come.

At midnight he awoke. A strong arm seemed to hold him, a voice to say,
"When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; when thou
walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned." It was the
Christ. There alone on the summit of the mount of the cross, amid the
bitterness of the world, pierced to the heart, crucified in soul, Job
Malden stood with his Master.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE VERDICT.

It was Friday morning. The last day of the trial had come. The hot sun
beat down on hundreds pressing their way towards the old court house,
too excited to be weary. Never had Gold City known such a day. The
court room was crowded two hours before the judge came to the bench. A
profound silence filled the place. When Job entered one could have
felt the stillness. All knew the verdict--all dreaded to hear it. Dan
Dean shrank down behind the post when the jury filed in. Job sat with
a far-away look in his eyes. Men, gazing at him, were reminded of
pictures of the old saints.

The preliminaries were over, and the foreman of the jury rose to give
the verdict. Men held their breath. Women grew pale and trembled. In a
clear voice he said it: "Guilty!" For a moment the hush lasted; then
Andrew Malden fainted, Tim's father cried, "My God! My God!" a storm
of tears swept over the throng, and Job sat motionless, while a look
of great peace came into his face and in his soul he murmured, "It is
finished!"

But the judge was speaking. He was denying the motion for a new trial;
he was asking if the prisoner had aught to say why sentence should not
be pronounced against him, when a voice that startled all rang through
the great room:

"White man, hear! Bill talk!"

There he stood--from whence he came no one knew--his old gray blanket
wrapped about him, his long black hair falling in a mass over his
shoulders, the blue overalls still hanging about his great brown feet.
With hand outstretched, he stood for a moment in silence, while judge
and jury and throng were at his command.

Then he spoke; brief, to the point, fiery, strong. The crowd was
spellbound. He carried bench and jury and all with him. He told of the
day in Merced canyon; of the figure on the distant cliff; of the
earthquake and Job's fall; how he had seen what he dared not tell the
boy--the cliff give way, a white thing go down, down, out of sight.
Told of Job's many hours in his tepee, and of how the boy