ightened a little, spasmodically,
as though the rider's nerve had failed him. And then that they
loosened again as though he had seen it was too late or had regained
his nerve.

The horse leaped far out, struck the opposite bank, seemed to hang
there a brief second, straining, balancing, and then with its rider
dropped backward.

The roar of the water boomed on like the clamouring of a world of
voices; through it ran a finer note like the cool laughter of a woman;
and upon Sledge Hume's white face, as he lay still upon a jagged stone
before the current swept him away, the little drops of spray were like
a woman's tears.

CHAPTER XXVIII

"IT IS HOME!"

To those who loved the sensational in and about El Toyon the trial of
Wayne Shandon was a disappointment. Never had the courthouse been more
crowded, never had the setting been more stimulating to their highly
coloured imaginations. Red Reckless, looking to their eyes
picturesquely pale from his confinement and the sheriff's bullet;
Brisbane with his poker table face and his reputation; Edward Kinsell,
whose smiling manner no longer concealed the glamour which clung about
so distinguished a detective; Martin Leland apparently older, less
stern, his eyes gentler; Mrs. Leland, confident and happy from her talk
with Shandon's attorney; Wanda, her eyes very bright, her cheeks
flushed, her heart yearning, hoping, praying and a little afraid; Helga
Strawn, now known by her own name, and linked by rumour with the man
who had paid the penalty for the crime of which he had accused Wayne
Shandon, her manner cool, aloof; even Willie Dart, whom everybody knew
and who in some strange way had come to be looked upon as a special
detective, imported a year ago by the counsel for the defence.

The district attorney's argument was cool, dispassionate, perfunctory.
He showed no interest in securing a conviction for the very simple
reason that he felt none. Brisbane was a further, deeper
disappointment. He failed to live up to the reputation that had
preceded him. He constantly studied his watch and a time-table during
the argument of the prosecution and when it was done audibly asked the
district attorney concerning the best train out of El Toyon. He said
what he had to say to the jury in less than half an hour. When charged
by the judge the jury filed out with grave faces only to file back in
five minutes smilingly.

"Not guilty, your honour!"

Since the principals