“You never can tell,” he muttered, smiling queerly as he made sure the weapon was not noticeable.

He was rolling another cigarette when the Captain parted the tent flaps and came stooping in, followed by twelve men of the Committee who were to be the jury, and as many spectators as could crowd after them.

“Gentlemen, be seated,” the Captain invited formally, and motioned the jury to the crude bunks that lined one side of the large tent.  Jack and the boy he moved farther from the entrance, and took up his own position where his sharp eyes commanded every inch of the interior and where the gun which he drew from its holster and rested upon his knee could speak its deadly rebuke to any man there if, in the upholding of justice, the Captain deemed it necessary.

The jury shuffled to their places, perched in a row upon the edge of the bunks and waited silently, their eyes fixed expectantly upon their Captain.  The crowd edged into the corners and along the sides, their hat crowns scraping the canvas roof as they were forced closer to the low wall.

The Captain waited until the silence was a palpable thing made alive by the rhythmic breathing of the men who were to look upon this new travesty of justice.

“Gentlemen,” he said at last, his sonorous voice carrying his words distinctly to the crowd without, “we are now ready to proceed with the investigation.  I wish to state, for the information of those present, that after the prisoners were placed here under guard, I went to get a statement from the wounded man, Mr. Texas Bill.  I found him dying from a wound inflicted upon his person by a pistol ball which passed through his left lung, above and to the right of his heart.  I did not take a written statement, for lack of time and writing materials.  But Texas swore—­”

“Yeah—­I’ll bet he swore!” commented Bill Wilson under his breath.  Every one looked toward Bill, standing just inside the flaps, and the Captain scowled while he waited for attention.

“Texas swore that he was shot by one of the prisoners, Jack Allen by name, who fired upon him without due provocation, while he was talking to this other prisoner, whose name we have yet to learn.  Texas stated that Allen, appearing suddenly from behind some bushes, began shooting with deadly intent and without warning, wantonly murdering Rawhide Jack, who lies dead in Smith’s back room, and shooting him, Texas, through the lung.  He also stated that Mr. Dick Swift was with him and Rawhide Jack, and was also shot by the prisoner, Jack Allen, without cause or provocation.

“They had met the stranger and were standing talking to him about his luck in the diggin’s.  This stranger, who is the other prisoner, was inclined to be sassy, and made a pass at Rawhide with his fist, telling him to mind his own business and not ask so many questions.  Rawhide struck back; and Allen, coming out from behind some bushes, began shooting.”