"I see," said the coroner in a friendly way. "Then what did you do?" "I went back to the house and lit the lamp in the kitchen," said Joe. "How long was that before Isom came in?" "Only a little while; ten or fifteen minutes, or maybe less." "And what did Isom say when he came in, Joe?" "He said he'd kill me, he was in a temper," Joe replied. "You had no quarrel before he said that, Isom just burst right into the room and threatened to kill you, did he, Joe? Now, you're sure about that?" "Yes, I'm perfectly sure." "What had you done to send Isom off into a temper that way?" "I hadn't done a thing," said Joe, meeting the coroner's gaze honestly. The coroner asked him concerning his position in the room, what he was doing, and whether he had anything in his hands that excited Isom when he saw it. "My hands were as empty as they are this minute," said Joe, but not without a little color in his cheeks when he remembered how hot and small Ollie's hand had felt within his own. "When did you first see this?" asked the coroner, holding up the sack with the burst corner which had lain on Isom's breast. The ruptured corner had been tied with a string, and the sack bulged heavily in the coroner's hand. "When Isom was lying on the floor after he was shot," said Joe. A movement of feet was audible through the room. People looked at each other, incredulity in their eyes. The coroner returned to the incidents which led up to the shooting snapping back to that phase of the inquiry suddenly, as if in the expectation of catching Joe off his guard. "What did he threaten to kill you for?" he asked sharply. "Well, Isom was an unreasonable and quick-tempered man," Joe replied. The coroner rose to his feet in a quick start, as if he intended to leap over the table. He pointed his finger at Joe, shaking his somber beard. "What did Isom Chase catch you at when he came into that kitchen?" he asked accusingly. "He saw me standing there, just about to blow out the light and go to bed," said Joe. "What did you and Isom quarrel about last night?" Joe did not reply at once. He seemed debating with himself over the advisability of answering at all. Then he raised his slow eyes to the coroner's face. "That was between him and me," said he. "Very well," said the coroner shortly, resuming his seat. "You may tell the jury how Isom Chase was shot." Joe described Isom's leap for the gun, the struggle he had with him to restrain him, the catching of the lock in the fork as Isom tugged at the barrel, the shot, and Isom's death. When he finished, the coroner bent over his note-book again, as if little interested and less impressed. Silence fell over the room. Then the coroner spoke, his head still bent over the book, not even turning his face toward the witness, his voice soft and low. "You were alone with Isom in the kitchen when this happened?"