"The cold facts are these," continued the speaker. "We all know that Ransom and Jake Farge hev had trouble over the claim that Farge staked out inside o' Ransom's fence; an' we know that Ransom has no more right to the land he fenced than the coyotes that run on it. For twenty years he's enjoyed the use of what isn't his'n, an' I say he'd oughter be thankful. Anyways, we come down to the events of yesterday and to-day. Yesterday he tole Jake that he'd shoot him on sight if he, Jake, come on to the land which Uncle Sam says is his. Do you deny that?" "That's 'bout what I tole him," drawled Ransom. "To-day Jake was shot dead like a dog by somebody who was a-waitin' for him, hidden in the brush. The widder, pore soul, suspicioning trouble, follered Jake, and found him with a bullet plumb through his heart. She heard the shot, and she swore that it come from Ransom's side o' the fence. And she knows and we know that there isn't a man 'twixt Maine and Californy with a grudge agen Jake, always exceptin' this yere Ransom." "That's so," growled the Court. "Boys, Jake was murdered with a bullet of small bore--not with a bullet outer a Winchester, sech as most of us carry. Whar did that ther bullet come from, boys?" "Outer a Sharp rifle." "Jest so. Who fired it? Mebbe we'll never know that. But we know this. 'Twas fired by one o' these yere men. One was and is accessory to t'other. The boy admits he's sweet on Ransom's gal; an' mebbe he did this dirt to win her. And he swears that Pap was in his corral at six. That's a lie or it ain't, as may be. If he was in the corral, t'other wasn't. Boys--I won't detain ye any longer. Those in favour of hangin' Thomas Ransom an' John Short here and now hold up their hands!" The men present held up their hands. One or two of the more bloodthirsty held up both hands. "That'll do. Those in favour of takin' the prisoners to San Lorenzy hold up their hands. Nary a hand! Prisoners ye've bin tried by yer feller-men, and found guilty o' murder in the first degree. Have ye anything to say?" Smoky answered huskily: "Nothin', 'cept that I'm not guilty." "An' you, Mr. Ransom?" said the 'Piker,' with odd politeness. "I've a lot ter say," drawled the old man. "Seemingly murder has been done, but Smoky here never done it; nor did I. I fired at a buck an' missed it. There ain't overly much o' the fool in me, but there's enough to make me hate ownin' up to a clean miss. When I got to the corral this evening, Smoky had bin there an hour or so at least. He arst me if I'd killed a buck and said he'd heard a shot. Wal, I lied, but I saw that he suspicioned me. Afterwards, I reckon he'd a look at the old gun, and found the shell in it. He must ha' got it into his fool head that he was God's appointed instrument to save _me_. He's as innercent as Mary's little lamb, and so am I." The squatters gazed at each other in stupefaction. Not a man present but could lie fearlessly on occasion, but not with such consummate art as this.