This infuriated John.  “Jude, you clear out!  Scott, you blank-blank—­”

Douglas flung up a protesting hand.  “O, cut that, Dad!  Judith, you stay right where you are.  You’re at the bottom of this whole trouble and I want you to see and hear it.”

“Draw it mild, Douglas!” protested the postmaster.

“Don’t bother about me,” said Jude.  “I sure-gawd can take care of myself.”

“What happens next?” inquired Jimmy Day.

Nobody spoke for a moment; then very deliberately, Peter turned to the sheriff.

“You remember Doug’s mother, don’t you, Frank?  I can’t help thinking how much he looks like her, to-day, although he’s the image of John.”

“Remember her!  I tried for five years to get her to marry me.  But her old dad wouldn’t stand for it.”

“You mean she couldn’t see you because of me, Frank!” exclaimed John, a sudden light in his handsome eyes.

Douglas again favored the postmaster with a contemplative stare.

“Some old wolf, her dad, I’ve heard,” Peter went on.

“He was,” agreed the sheriff.  “He ran the valley and he ran it right.  Every Fourth of July he made a speech about making Lost Chief the Plymouth Rock of the West.”

Charleton Falkner roared.  “I remember those speeches!”

Peter was grinning.  “But in spite of them, from what I’ve heard I believe he came mighty near being a great man, old Bill Douglas.”

“What did he lack?” demanded Douglas suddenly.

“Religion!” answered Peter, promptly.

“Religion?  What’s that?” asked John with a guffaw.  “You never had any, Peter.”

“Right!” agreed Peter.  “Worse luck for me that I didn’t have that kind of a mind.  But I know any kind of a social idea fails without it.  And I know if old Bill Douglas had built a church up there beside the schoolhouse, the chances are that Scott wouldn’t have plugged Douglas last night.  And mind, I don’t believe in God, or the hereafter, or any of the dope they drug you with.”

“What the hell are you driving at, Peter?” demanded Charleton.

“Say,” shouted John, “is this a trial or a sermon?”

“It’s neither,” replied Peter.  “We’re just talking things over.  My idea is that Doug shall sort of sit in judgment on Scott and the rest of us abide by his decision.”

“Now, listen here!” exclaimed Scott.  “This may be a funny joke, but I don’t see it!”

Charleton laughed.  “I’m with you, Peter.  Only that won’t pay my grudge.”

John laughed too, with a little glance of pride toward his son’s set, white face.  “I’m on!  Make it include his leaving Jude alone.”

“Aw, you folks act plumb loco!” snarled Scott.

“Wait and see!  Wait and see!” protested Peter.  “And while Doug thinks it over, let me add something to what we were saying about old Bill Douglas.  He used to act as a kind of unofficial judge in the valley?”