for the prisoners. The trial
will take place this afternoon."

"Hurray! Hurray!" the people shouted. The cheers were deafening.

CHAPTER XXII

THE PEOPLE'S JURY

Benito, as he elbowed his way through a crowd which ringed the city hall
that afternoon, was impressed by the terrific tight-lipped determination
of those faces all about him. It was as though San Francisco had but one
thought, one straight, relentless purpose--the punishment of crime by
Mosaic law. The prisoners in the county jail appeared to sense this wave
of retributive hatred, for they paced their cells like caged beasts.

It was truly a case of "The People vs. Stuart (alias Berdue) and
Windred," charged with robbery and assault. Coleman and his Committee of
Twelve were in absolute charge. They selected as judges, three popular
and trusted citizens, J.R. Spence, H.R. Bowie and C.L. Ross. W.A. Jones
was named the judge's clerk and J.E. Townes the whilom sheriff.

While the jury was impaneling, Brannan spoke to Benito: "Twelve good men
and true; the phrase means something here. Lord, if we could have such
jurymen as these in all our American courts."

Benito nodded. "They've appointed Bill Coleman as public prosecutor;
that's rather a joke on Bill."

Judge Spence, who sat between his two colleagues, presiding on the
bench, now spoke:

"I appoint Judge Shattuck and--er--Hall McAllister as counsel for the
defendants."

There was a murmur of interest. Judge Shattuck, dignified, a trifle
ponderous, came forward, spectacles in hand. He put them on, surveyed
his clients with distaste, and took his place composedly at the table.
Hall McAllister, dapper, young and something of a dandy, advanced with
less assurance. He would have preferred the other side of the case, for
he did not like running counter to the people.

Amid a stir the prisoners were led forward to the dock. Judge Spence,
looking down at them over his spectacles, read the charges. "Are you
guilty or not guilty?" he asked.

Windred, the younger, with a frightened glance about the court room,
murmured almost inaudibly, "Not guilty." The other, in a deep and
penetrating voice, began a sort of speech. It was incoherent, agonized.
Benito thought it held a semblance of sincerity.

"Always, your honor," he declared, "I am mistaken for that scoundrel;
that Stuart.... I am a decent man ... but what is the use? I say it's
terrible...."

"Judge" Spence removed his eyeglasses and wiped them n