The Captain cleared his throat.  When he spoke again, he addressed the twelve before him: 

“Gentlemen of the jury, I have reasons for feeling convinced that this young man is in part telling the truth.  I am acquainted with his father, unless he has given a name he does not own—­and his face is a pretty good witness for him; he looks like his dad.  While he has undoubtedly glossed and warped the story of the shooting in a mistaken effort to make things look better for the man who did the killing, I can see no sufficient reason for holding him.  This Committee stands for justice and is not backward about tempering it with mercy.  Gentlemen of the jury, I recommend that John Belden be released from custody and permitted to go home.  He was unarmed when I took him, and there is no evidence of his having dealt anything but hard words to the victims of the shooting.  Gentlemen, you will give your verdict; after which we will proceed with the investigation.”

The jury looked at one another and nodded to the man on the end of the first bunk; and he, shifting a quid of tobacco to the slack of his right cheek, expectorated gravely into the sand and spoke solemnly: 

“The verdict of the jury is all in favor of turnin’ the kid loose.”

“John Belden, you are released.  And we’d advise you to be a little careful how you sass men in this country.  Also, you better see about that ticket on the Mary Elizabeth.  Jack Allen, you may come forward and take the oath.”

“This box is just as comfortable as that one,” said Jack, “and you needn’t worry but what I’ll tell the truth!” He took a last pull at his cigarette, pinched out the fire, and ground the stub under his heel.  He could feel the silence grow tense with expectancy; and when he lifted his eyes, he knew that every man in that tent was staring into his face.

“I used to believe,” he began clearly, “in the Vigilantes.  If I had been here when the first Committee was formed, I’d have worked for it myself.  I believe it cleared the town of some of the worst scoundrels in the country, and that’s saying a good deal.  But—­”

“The Committee,” interrupted the Captain, “would like to hear your story of the shooting.  Your private opinions can wait until the investigation of that affair is ended.”

“You’re right.  I beg your pardon for forgetting that it is not settled yet!” Jack’s voice was politely scornful.  “Well, then, this kid told the truth in every particular, even when he declared that Dick Swift is a dirty liar.  Swift is a liar.  He’s also a thief, and he’s also a murderer—­and a few other things not as decent!