“Hand it to me,” said the judge.  “It seems genuine.”

“Put it to the test.  Call the merchant for a witness,” cried another.

A party ran instantly for Levi.  He refused to come.  They dragged him with fearful menaces.

“A test, old man; a test of gold!”

The old Jew cast his eyes around, took in the whole scene, and with a courage few of the younger ones would have shown, defied that wild mob.

“I will give you no test.  I wash my hands of your mad passions, and your mockeries of justice, men of Belial!”

A moment’s silence and wonder, a yell of rage, and a dozen knives in the air.

The judge rose hastily, and in a terrible voice that governed the tumult for an instant said:  “Down knives!  I hang the first man that uses one in my court.”  And during the momentary pause that followed this he cried out:  “He has given me a test.  Run and fetch me the bottle of acid on his table.”

“Hurrah!  Judge Lynch forever!” was now the cry, and in a minute the bottle was thrust into the judge’s hand.

“Young man,” said Isaac solemnly, “do not pour, lest Heaven bring your soul to as keen a test one day.  Who are you that judge your brother?”

Judge Lynch trembled visibly as the reverend man rebuked him thus, but, fearing Isaac would go farther and pay the forfeit of his boldness, he said calmly:  “Friends, remove the old man from the court, but use respect.  He is an aged man.”

Isaac was removed.  The judge took the bottle and poured a drop on that small pinch of dust the man had last given him.

No effect followed.

“I pronounce this to be gold.”

“There,” put in McLaughlan, “ye see the lad was no deceiving ye; is it his fault if a’ the gowd is no the same?”

“No!” whimpered Walker, eagerly, and the crowd began to whisper and allow he might be innocent.

The man standing behind the judge said, with a cold sneer:  “That is the stuff he did not sell—­now pour on the stuff he sold.”

These words brought back the prejudice against the prisoner, and a hundred voices shouted, “Pour!” while their eyes gleamed with a terrible curiosity.

Judge Lynch, awestruck by this terrible roar, now felt what it is to be a judge; he trembled and hesitated.

“Pour!” roared the crowd, still louder and more fiercely.

McLaughlan read the judge’s feeling, and whimpered out, “Let it fa’, lad—­let it fa’!”

“If he does our knives fall on him and you.  Pour!”

Robinson poured.  All their fierce eyes were fixed on the experiment.  He meant to pour a drop or two, but the man behind him jogged his arm, and half the acid in the bottle fell upon Walker’s dust.

A quantity of smoke rose from it, and the particles fizzed and bubbled under the terrible test.

“Trash! a rope—­no! dig a hole and bury him—­no! fling him off the rock into the water.”