ye! Ye kin even
murder a woman ef ye've got a mind ter--but thar's a baby in this house
thet's comin' ter manhood some day."

"Ye won't be hyar ter train him up fer vengeance," came the sneering
voice of Bas Rowlett who had stood clear of that conflict; and glaring
at him Thornton managed a bitter laugh.

"He won't need no trainin' up," he retorted. "Hit's bred in his blood
an' his bone ter hate snakes an' kill 'em. He's drunk hit in at his
mother's breast an' breathed hit in ther air.... He'll settle our scores
some day!"

CHAPTER XXXV

Sim Squires knew that when the brief farce of the trial took place he
would be called forward to testify with a few prearranged lies. In his
mouth was a pebble, put there to change his voice--but in his mutinous
heart was an obsession of craving to see Bas Rowlett in such a debased
position as that which Parish Thornton occupied--for, of all men, he
feared and hated Bas most.

This unrelished participation in the mob spirit was more abhorrent than
it had been before. The scorn of Dorothy's eyes had a scorpion sting
that he could not escape--and this woman had given his life an
atmosphere of friendliness and kindliness which it had not known before.

"Now," announced the masked spokesman, "we're well-nigh ready, an' thar
hain't no virtue in bein' dilitary--albeit we don't aim ter hang him
untried. Witness Number One, come forward."

Witness Number One was Sim Squires, and as though his tongue had been
stricken with sudden dumbness and his limbs with paralysis, he hung back
when he had been called. Slowly he looked at Parish Thornton, whose face
was pale, but set once more to the calm of resoluteness--and at the
ghost-terror and the lingering contempt in the deep and suffering eyes
of the wife.

"Thar's a man hyar in this room," began Sim Squires, "thet's done been
seekin' evi_dence_ erginst ther riders, an' he's done secured a lavish
of hit, too." So far, his words were running in expected grooves, and
as the voice went on a little indistinct because of the pebble under the
tongue, his impatient audience accorded him only a perfunctory
attention.

"He's done hed spies amongst ye an' he's got evi_dence_ thet no co'te
kain't fail ter convict on," proceeded the witness, slowly. "He aims ter
penitenshery _you_," his finger rose and settled, pointing toward the
man who had acted as spokesman, and who was Rick Joyce. Then it rose
again and fell on others, as Sim added, "an