onstrate that even if I
killed Adam Forbes I certainly did not kill him in the manner or for
the motive set forth by the theory of the prosecution--then you may
perhaps believe my unsupported statement as to the rest of it. And
that is what I can do, if allowed the opportunity. I cannot, by
myself, now or at any other time, absolutely prove my statement to be
true. I can and will prove the theory of the prosecution to be
absolutely false. To do that I rely upon myself--not upon my
statement, but upon myself, my body, so much flesh and blood and bone,
considered as an exhibit in this case, taken in connection with all
known or alleged facts; on myself and my horse; on Adam Forbes' dead
body and on the horse Adam Forbes rode that day; on the Bar Cross
yearling I branded day before yesterday, a yearling that I can
describe in detail, a yearling that can be found and must be found, a
yearling that will be found following a Bar Cross cow. I have no
fancy to be hanged by a theory. I demand to test that theory by facts.
I demand that my horse be called to testify to the facts."

"Mr. Gwinne, you may call the prisoner's horse," said the justice.
"Spinal, you may act as the court's officer while Gwinne is gone."

"His name is Twilight," added Johnny, "and he is over at the Gans
stables."

"I protest! Your Honor, I protest against such unmitigated folly,"
stormed Mr. Benjamin Attlebury Wade, in a hot fury of exasperation.
"You are making a mockery of the law! There is no precedent on record
for anything like this."

"Here's where we make a new precedent, then," observed the court
cheerfully. "I have given my instructions, and I'd be willing to place
a small bet on going through with my folly. I don't know much about
the law, but the people who put me here knew I didn't know much about
the law when they elected me--so I guess they aimed to have me get at
the rights of things in my own way." He twisted his scanty beard for a
moment; his faded blue eyes peered over the rims of his glasses. "Not
that it would make any great difference," he added.

A little wearied from the strain of focalized effort, Johnny looked
out across the blur of faces. Hobby Lull smiled at him, and Charlie
See looked hardihood like his own. There were other friendly faces,
many of them; and beyond and above them all shone the faces of his
straining mates, Hiram and the three John Cross men.

"Judge, may I speak to the prisoner?" asked Hiram Yoast. He t