"Is there any reason why anyone in the Valley might harbor a grudge against the sheep rancher?" asked the coroner.

Brydges hesitated as one who could say much if he would. "Yes, there is," he answered lowering his eyes and flushing dully.

It was the attorney again who was on his feet.

"Mr. Coroner, the dead cannot defend themselves. Out of respect to the deceased gentleman and the member of his family present, I think that line of enquiry ought not to be recorded or pursued."

"The second time they have said that; what do they mean?" Eleanor asked Mrs. Williams in a whisper.

Matthews was hanging on to his chair to hold himself down and the news editor had leaned across Eleanor to speak to Wayland: "Good G.o.d, Wayland! Don't you see the drift? Can't you head that off?"

"Leave 't' me," muttered the old frontiersman gripping his chair.

"But you have given your evidence: Wayland is our only chance left.

Don't you see how they'll clinch it?"

"Hold y'r head shut," ordered Matthews.

Wayland was giving his evidence, as little as he could possibly give, it seemed to Eleanor, from the time he had telephoned down to her father to come and take corroborative proof of the value of the coal mines.

"You did not antic.i.p.ate any trouble about the examination?"

"None whatever," answered Wayland. He had described the examination of the two tunnels and the preparation to go down the shaft when the Sheriff again whispered to the coroner.

"When MacDonald seemed to change his mind about going down the shaft, was there anyone visible except the Sheriff?"

"Not that I saw," answered Wayland; and he went on to describe the cutting of the cable and the climb up the side of the shaft.

Eleanor became suddenly conscious that tense stillness reigned in the county court room. Some man standing behind the back benches shuffled his feet and cleared his throat with an offensive "hem." The roomful of people looked back angrily. The attorney had pencilled a line on a sc.r.a.p of paper and shoved it across in front of the coroner. Through the open windows, Eleanor could see that a great concourse of people was gathering outside.

"When you found the body, was anyone else present at the top of the shaft?"

For the fraction of a second, Eleanor wondered if they meant to cast suspicion on the Ranger.

"Yes," answered Wayland, "the woman, Calamity was lying on the ground sobbing to break her heart. No one else was visible."

"You say the wound was such that it could not possibly have been self-inflicted?"

"You determined that for yourselves, when you examined the body,"

answered Wayland.

"Was the woman's position such that she might have shot him?"

"The shot was in the right temple, close; close enough to scorch the face! You have the record of that! The woman was kneeling on the ground a little to the left facing him."

"Did she carry a weapon?"

"She did not."

"How do you know she had not one concealed?"

"Because I caught her by the shoulders and lifted her up and shook her and said, 'Calamity, who did this?'"

"What did she answer?"

The attorney was on his feet with a bang of his fist on the table that shut off the answer:

"Mr. Coroner, this evidence has proceeded far enough to show that the death of the deceased gentleman had absolutely no connection whatever with the official examination of the mines. The dead cannot defend themselves. Out of respect to the deceased and the member of his family--"

"That," interrupted Matthews, breaking from his chair, "is the third time th' insinuation has been thrown out that MacDonald had things in his life that wud na bear tellin'! A know his life: A know all his life: ask me!"

But the attorney and the coroner were in an endless wrangle as to law, that was Hebrew to the listeners, and gave the roomful of spectators ample time to imbibe the false impression that was meant to be conveyed, and to pa.s.s it to the prurient crowd outside. After a half hour of reading from authorities to prove that the answer was inadmissible as evidence, and another half hour rattling off counter authorities at such a rate the listeners could not possibly judge for themselves, the coroner reserved decision as to whether that answer could be admitted as evidence or not, coming as it did from a person plainly of unsound mind.

"What next happened?"

"I tied a stone to the cut end of the cable and unrolled the rope on the hoist and gave it a hard enough pitch to send the stone past the bend in the shaft."

"And when you turned to work the hoist and bring up the others?"

"And when I turned to work the hoist, the Indian woman was nowhere to be seen. The chances are she knew the guilty parties would try to throw the blame--"

"Mr. Coroner," shouted the attorney, "there can be no chances recorded as evidence where the reputation of a gentleman, who cannot defend himself, is concerned."

"Good G.o.d," said the news editor under his breath.

"Humph! A'll put a crimp in that! The Sheriff man is to give evidence yet! Eleanor, y' better not wait! A'm goin' t' do some plain speakin'

t' y' father's honor, but 'tis not talk for a woman's ears! Y've heard y'r father defamed."

"Then, I'll wait and hear him cleared," she whispered to Mrs. Williams.

"Will you stay?"

The Sheriff had gone round in front of the table, not too near it for obvious reasons; for the time of his revenge had come and his rotundity protruded full blown and swelling. He told how MacDonald had refused to go down the shaft.

"Do you know any reason for that sudden change of mind?"

"I don't know whether it's the reason or not; but somethin' happened jes' as he had his leg up to climb in, _might a' made_ him change his mind! Th' squaw come ridin' all bareheaded, an' mad as a hornet out o'

th' cottonwoods wavin' her hands roarin' crazy! Minit he seen her, he quit goin' down: said he'd give me a hand at the hoist! I seen what made him change his mind al' right! She waz ravin' mad, come rampin'

out, then, she seen me, an' kin' o' hiked back ahint the cottonwood; but I seen her plain! Jes as we commenced unwindin' her--"

"You mean the hoist?"

"Yes, jes' as we began lettin' her down, I sees O'Finnigan come up from Smelter City trail roarin' drunk, ugly drunk, yellin' 'h.e.l.l: he waz Uncle Sam,' an' all that."

"If y'll not admit the child's story of her father, why d' y' admit this man's story of him?" demanded Matthews; but the coroner ignored the interruption and the doughty defender of the law continued.

"I put up with his drunken yellin' till I felt the bucket b.u.mp the first level. Then I sez, 'Now, my gen'leman, hand over that bottle o'

tipperary, an' scat out o' this!' There it is," the Sheriff laid a black square whiskey bottle on the desk. "He began jawin' an' cuttin'

up gineral. T' make a long story short, I took him by the scruff o'