But the attorney and the coroner were in an endless wrangle as to law, that was Hebrew to the listeners, and gave the roomful of spectators ample time to imbibe the false impression that was meant to be conveyed, and to pass it to the prurient crowd outside.  After a half hour of reading from authorities to prove that the answer was inadmissible as evidence, and another half hour rattling off counter authorities at such a rate the listeners could not possibly judge for themselves, the coroner reserved decision as to whether that answer could be admitted as evidence or not, coming as it did from a person plainly of unsound mind.

“What next happened?”

“I tied a stone to the cut end of the cable and unrolled the rope on the hoist and gave it a hard enough pitch to send the stone past the bend in the shaft.”

“And when you turned to work the hoist and bring up the others?”

“And when I turned to work the hoist, the Indian woman was nowhere to be seen.  The chances are she knew the guilty parties would try to throw the blame—­”

“Mr. Coroner,” shouted the attorney, “there can be no chances recorded as evidence where the reputation of a gentleman, who cannot defend himself, is concerned.”

“Good God,” said the news editor under his breath.

“Humph!  A’ll put a crimp in that!  The Sheriff man is to give evidence yet!  Eleanor, y’ better not wait!  A’m goin’ t’ do some plain speakin’ t’ y’ father’s honor, but ’tis not talk for a woman’s ears!  Y’ve heard y’r father defamed.”

“Then, I’ll wait and hear him cleared,” she whispered to Mrs. Williams.  “Will you stay?”

The Sheriff had gone round in front of the table, not too near it for obvious reasons; for the time of his revenge had come and his rotundity protruded full blown and swelling.  He told how MacDonald had refused to go down the shaft.

“Do you know any reason for that sudden change of mind?”

“I don’t know whether it’s the reason or not; but somethin’ happened jes’ as he had his leg up to climb in, might a’ made him change his mind!  Th’ squaw come ridin’ all bareheaded, an’ mad as a hornet out o’ th’ cottonwoods wavin’ her hands roarin’ crazy!  Minit he seen her, he quit goin’ down:  said he’d give me a hand at the hoist!  I seen what made him change his mind al’ right!  She waz ravin’ mad, come rampin’ out, then, she seen me, an’ kin’ o’ hiked back ahint the cottonwood; but I seen her plain!  Jes as we commenced unwindin’ her—­”

“You mean the hoist?”

“Yes, jes’ as we began lettin’ her down, I sees O’Finnigan come up from Smelter City trail roarin’ drunk, ugly drunk, yellin’ ’Hell:  he waz Uncle Sam,’ an’ all that.”

“If y’ll not admit the child’s story of her father, why d’ y’ admit this man’s story of him?” demanded Matthews; but the coroner ignored the interruption and the doughty defender of the law continued.