“Search him!”

“No tellin’ what else he’s got!”

“——­and he’s so damned handy!”

“Search him!”

Maudie pressed forward as the pinioned man’s pockets were turned out.  Only tobacco, a small buckskin bag with less than four ounces of dust, a pipe, and a knife.

“Likely he’d be carrying my stuff about on him!” said she, contemptuous of her own keen interest.

“Get out a warrant to search Butts’ premises,” said a voice in the crowd.

“McGinty and Johnson are down there now!”

“Think he’d leave anything layin’ round?”

Maudie pressed still closer to the beleaguered Butts.

“Say, if I make the boys let you go back to Circle, will you tell me where you’ve hid my money?”

“Ain’t got your money!”

“Look at ’im,” whispered Charlie, still so terrified he could hardly stand.

“Butts ain’t borrowin’ no trouble.”

And this formulating of the general impression did Butts no good.  As they had watched the calm demeanour of the man, under suspicion of what was worse, in their eyes, than murder, there had come over the bystanders a wave of that primitive cruelty that to this hour will wake in modern men and cry as loud as in Judean days, or in the Saga times of Iceland, “Retribution!  Let him suffer!  Let him pay in blood!” And here again, on the Yukon, that need of visible atonement to right the crazy injustice of the earth.

Even the women—­the others had crowded in—­were eager for Butts’ instant expiation of the worst crime such a community knows.  They told one another excitedly how they’d realised all along it was only a question of time before Butts would be tryin’ his game up here.  Nobody was safe.  Luckily they were on to him.  But look!  He didn’t care a curse.  It would be a good night’s job to make him care.

Three men had hold of him, and everybody talked at once.  Minnie Bryan was sure she had seen him skulking round Maudie’s after that lady had gone up the trail, but everybody had been too excited about the stampede to notice particularly.

The Judge and Bonsor were shouting and gesticulating, Butts answering bitterly but quietly still.  His face was pretty grim, but it looked as if he were the one person in the place who hadn’t lost his head.  Maudie was still crying at intervals, and advertising to the newcomers that wealth she had hitherto kept so dark, and between whiles she stared fixedly at Butts, as conviction of his guilt deepened to a rage to see him suffer for his crime.

She would rather have her nuggets back, but, failing that—­let Butts pay!  He owed her six thousand dollars.  Let him pay!

The miners were hustling him to the door—­to the Court House or to the cotton-wood—­a toss-up which.

“Look here!” cried out the Colonel; “McGinty and Johnson haven’t got back!”

Nobody listened.  Justice had been sufficiently served in sending them.  They had forced Butts out across the threshold, the crowd packed close behind.  The only men who had not pressed forward were Keith, the Colonel, and the Boy, and No-Thumb-Jack, still standing by the oil-tank.