farthin' dip for yer _looks_ and _sounds_," cried Burke,
interrupting the other. "No man is goin' for to tell me that anybody
can trust to _looks_ and _sounds_. Why, I've know'd the greatest
villain that ever chewed the end of a smuggled cigar _look_ as innocent
as the babe unborn. An' is there a man here wot'll tell me he hasn't
often an' over again mistook the crack of a big gun for a clap o'
thunder?"

This was received with much approval by the crowd, which had evidently
more than half-forgotten the terrible purpose for which it had assembled
there, and was now much interested in what bid fair to be a keen
dispute. When the noise abated, Dan raised his voice and said--"If
Burke had not interrupted me, I was going to have said that another
thing which proves the letter to be no forgery is, that the post-mark of
San Francisco is on the back of it, with the date all right."

This statement delighted the crowd immensely, and caused Burke to look
disconcerted for a few seconds; he rallied, however, and returned to the
charge.

"Post-marks! wot do I care for post-marks? Can't a man forge a
post-mark as easy as any other mark?"

"Ah! that's true," from a voice in the crowd.

"No, not so easily as _any_ other mark," retorted Dan, "for it's made
with a kind of ink that's not sold in shops. Everything goes to prove
that the letter is no forgery. But, Mr Burke, will you answer me
this--if it _was_ a forgery, got up for the purpose of saving this man's
life, _at what time was it forged_? for Bumpus could not know that he
would ever need such a letter until yesterday afternoon, and between
that time and this there was but little time to forge a letter from San
Francisco, post-mark and all, and make it soiled and worn at the edges
like an old letter. (`Hear!' and sensation.) More than that," cried
Dan, waxing eager and earnest, "if it was a forgery, got up for this
purpose, _why was it not produced at the trial_? (`Hear! hear!' and
cheers!) And, last of all, why, if this forgery was so important to
him, did John Bumpus forget all about it until he stood on this table;
ay, _until the rope was round his neck_?"

A perfect storm of cheers and applause followed this last sentence, in
the midst of which there were cries of "You're floored, Burke! Hurrah
for Bumpus! Cut the ropes!"

But although John's life was now safe, his indignation at Susan's letter
having been laughed at was not altogether allayed.

"I'll