"If the leader of the band finds himself in need of help it will be forthcoming," Mr. Britton answered, with peculiar emphasis. "The citizens are expecting trouble and have sworn in about a dozen extra deputy sheriffs, myself among the number." When lunch was over Mr. Britton ordered a carriage at once, and they proceeded to the court-room. "What is your opinion of this man?" Darrell asked his father, while on the way. "Would you have selected him as the murderer, from your study of him?" "I reserve my opinions until later," Mr. Britton replied. "I want you to act from memory alone, unbiased by any outside influence." Arriving at the court-room, they found it already well filled. Darrell was about to enter, but his father took him into a small anteroom, while he himself went to look for seats. He had a little difficulty in finding the seats he wanted, which delayed them so that proceedings had begun as he and Darrell entered from a side door and took their places in rather an obscure part of the room. "You will have a good view here," Mr. Britton said to Darrell, as they seated themselves, "and there is little likelihood of your being recognized from this point." "There is little probability of the man's recognizing me, even if he is here," Darrell replied, "for he did not give me a second thought that night, and if he had, I am so changed he would not know me." "We cannot be too cautious," his father answered. In a few moments the prisoner was brought in, and there was a general craning of necks to see him, a number of men in Darrell's vicinity standing and thus obstructing his view. "Wait," said his father, as he was about to rise with the others; "don't make yourself conspicuous; when the man is called for examination you will have an excellent view from here." Curiosity gradually subsided, and the men sank back into their seats as proceedings went on. Then the prisoner was called and stood up for examination. Darrell drew a quick breath and leaned eagerly forward. The man was of medium height and size, but his movements seemed heavy and clumsy, whereas Darrell had been impressed by a litheness and agility in the movements of the other. He stood facing his interlocutor, affording Darrell a three-quarter view of his face, but soon he turned in Darrell's direction, scanning the crowd slowly, as though in search of some one. Darrell saw a squarely built, colorless face, surmounted by a shock of coarse, straight black hair, with heavy, repulsive features, and small, bullet-shaped, leaden eyes of rather light blue. The face was so utterly unlike what he had expected to see that he sank back into his seat with a smothered exclamation of disgust. His father, watching closely, smiled, seeming rather pleased than otherwise, but Darrell was half indignant. "The idea of a lout like that being taken for the leader!" he exclaimed. "He is nothing but a tool, and a pretty clumsy one at that."