Jim McCaskey was next called and Pierce made way for him.  The younger brother made a poor start, but he warmed up to his own defense, gaining confidence and ease as he talked.

In the first place, both he and Joe were innocent of this outrageous charge—­as innocent as unborn babes—­and this air of suspicion was like to smother them.  This Jim declared upon his honor.  The evidence was strong, he admitted, but it was purely circumstantial, and he proposed to explain it away.  He proposed to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; letting the blame fall where it would and leaving the verdict entirely up to his hearers.  Joe would substantiate his every statement.

It was quite true that he and his brother had been Good Samaritans; they had opened their doors and had taken in this young man when he was hungry and homeless, but that was their habit.  They had fed him, they had shared their blankets with him, they had helped him in a thousand ways, not without serious inconvenience to themselves.  Why, only on the day before the speaker himself had volunteered to take the young man’s earnings to Dyea for safekeeping, thereby letting himself in for an unmerciful mauling, and suffering a semi-fractured skull, the marks of which would doubtless stay with him for a long time.

Phillips had left camp early the previous morning, to be sure, and he had not come home until an hour or two ago, but where he had gone, how he had occupied himself during his absence, where he had spent the night, of course the speaker had no way of knowing.  Phillips was often absent at night; he came and he went at all hours, and neither Joe nor the witness ever questioned him, believing his statements that he was packing for hire.  Neither his brother nor he had ever seen that sack of rice antil it was uncovered by the posse, and as for the other plunder, it was all part and parcel of an outfit which their guest had been assembling for some time.  They supposed, of course, that he had bought it, bit by bit, with his earnings.

Pierce Phillips listened in speechless amazement, scarcely believing his own ears, the while Jim McCaskey struck the fetters from his own and his brother’s limbs and placed them upon his.  It seemed impossible that such a story could carry weight, but from all indications it did.  When Joe McCaskey took the center of the stage and glibly corroborated his brother’s statements Pierce interrupted him savagely, only to be warned that he’d better be silent.

“That’s all we’ve got to say,” concluded the elder of the precious pair when he had finished.  “You can judge for yourselves who did the stealing.  Jim and I’ve got all the grub we want; this fellow hasn’t any.”

“Have you anything to say for yourself?” The chairman addressed himself to Phillips.

“I have.”  Pierce again took the stand.  “You’re making a great mistake,” he said, earnestly.  “These men have lied; they’re trying to save themselves at my expense.  I’ve told you everything, now I demand that you wait to hear the Countess Courteau or Mr. Linton.  They’ll prove where I spent last night, at least.”