Every eye on Butts.  Charlie caught up breath and courage.

“An’ t’odder night w’en Maudie treat me like she done”—­he shot a blazing glance at the double-dyed traitor—­“I fixed it up with Butts.  Got him to go soft on ’er and nab ’er ring.”

“You didn’t!” shouted Maudie.

With a shaking finger Charlie pointed out Jimmie, the cashier.

“Didn’t I tell you to weigh me out twenty dollars for Butts that night?”

“Right,” says Jimmie.

“It was to square Butts fur gittin’ that ring away from Maudie.”

“You put up a job like that on me?” To be fooled publicly was worse than being robbed.

Charlie paid no heed to her quivering wrath.  The menace of the cotton-wood gallows outrivalled even Maudie and her moods.

“Why should I pay Butts twenty dollars if I could work dat racket m’self?  If I want expert work, I go to a man like Butts, who knows his business.  I’m a miner—­like the rest o’ yer!”

The centre of gravity had shifted.  It was very grave indeed in the neighbourhood of Mr. Butts.

“Hold on,” said the Judge, forcing his way nearer to the man whose fingers had a renown so perilous. “’Cause a man plays a trick about a girl’s ring don’t prove he stole her money.  This thing happened while the town was emptied out on the Little Minook trail.  Didn’t you go off with the rest yesterday morning?”

“No.”

“Ha!” gasped Maudie, as though this were conclusive—­“had business in town, did you?”

Mr. Butts declined to answer.

“You thought the gold-mine out on the gulch could wait—­and the gold-mine in my cabin couldn’t.”

“You lie!” remarked Mr. Butts.

“What time did you get to Idaho Bar?” asked Corey.

“Didn’t get there at all.”

“Where were you?”

“Here in Rampart.”

“What?”

“Wait!  Wait!” commanded the Judge, as the crowd rocked towards Butts:  “P’raps you’ll tell us what kept you at home?”

Butts shut his mouth angrily, but a glance at the faces nearest him made him think an answer prudent.

“I was tired.”

The men, many of them ailing, who had nearly killed themselves to get to Idaho Bar, sneered openly.

“I’d been jumpin’ a claim up at Hunter.”

“So had Charlie.  But he joined the new stampede in the afternoon.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Why, even the old cripple Jansen went on this stampede.”

“Can’t help that.”

“Mr. Butts, you’re the only able-bodied white man in the district that stayed at home.”  Corey spoke in his, most judicial style.

Mr. Butts must have felt the full significance of so suspicious a fact, but all he said was: 

“Y’ ought to fix up a notice.  Anybody that don’t join a stampede will be held guilty o’ grand larceny.”  Saying this Butts had backed a step behind the stove-pipe, and with incredible quickness had pulled out a revolver.  But before he had brought it into range, No-Thumb-Jack had struck his arm down, and two or three had sprung at the weapon and wrested it away.