“My dear Forsyth, you will do nothing of the kind. The case will come up at the next term of court, and I shall stay right where I am until the sheriff’s deputy comes for me.” Forsyth did not press the point. The day of reckless shooting affrays had passed its Colorado meridian--in the cities, at least--and a healthy public sentiment was beginning to demand a more stringent interpretation of the law. Moreover, the Plainsman had kept well to the front in the law-and-order movement, and its editor had protested often and vehemently against the laxity of judges and juries in murder cases. For this cause he went not unwillingly from the question of bail to that of counsel. “Have you made up your mind whom you will have to defend you?” he asked. “No one,” said Brant. “Nonsense! And why not, pray?” “I shall plead my own cause.” “Be your own lawyer and have a fool for a client, I suppose. But that won’t do at all. I know you have been living in an atmosphere where, as we say, ‘everything goes,’ but you mustn’t bank on mining camp methods in Denver at this late day. The prosecution here won’t leave you a leg to stand on; it can’t, under the present pressure of public sentiment.” “Nevertheless, I shall plead my own cause,” Brant insisted stubbornly. “You are not going to be allowed to hang yourself after that fashion. I shall retain the best lawyer I can find, and send him to you early in the morning.” “If you do I shall send him away again.” The editor got up to tramp back and forth in the narrow limits of the cell. “What the devil is the matter with you, anyway?” he demanded. “Can’t you see that you are sending yourself straight to the gallows? I tell you, Brant, you don’t realize the change that has been wrought here even in the last few months. The jury that acquitted Steve Basket last spring did what no jury will ever do again in Denver. And if Jarvis tells a straight story, you haven’t a ghost of a show without the best legal help you can get.” “What you say is all true enough, and I realize it as clearly as you do,” was the calm reply. “But you are talking quite beside the mark. I am here, charged with the murder of James Harding, and I am ready and willing to take what shall befall. I don’t need a lawyer to help me do that, do I?” Having no doubt of Brant’s guilt, Forsyth made haste to interrupt what he feared might lead to an incriminating confession. “Don’t tell me anything about it,” he broke in quickly. “We are known to be intimate, and it is quite as likely as not I shall be called as a witness against you.” Brant smiled. “Don’t worry about that. If you should happen to be summoned you must tell the whole truth. I sha’n’t gainsay it by so much as a single word.” “You are a queer fellow,” was the editor’s comment after a pause. “Most men in your hard case would be catching at straws. Are you quite sure you don’t want counsel?” “Quite sure.” “Then is there anything else I can do for you?” The jailer was returning.