It was a timely and popular play. The Deacon had offered to prove his conversion by his works, and here within the hour was an opportunity ready to his hand. It was a thing almost unheard of in feud usage, this turning a relative over to Falkins officers. And yet as greatly as it strengthened him in the eyes of the public, it carried a tremendous danger. He could now expect no loyalty from Newt. Newt, if he came to trial, might be stung into telling what he knew of the Deacon's part in the murder of old Jake. Still, it was a case for quick decision, and he did not hesitate. Moreover, Newt in jail would be more amenable to persuasion than Newt out of jail. Falkins men gravely declared that Black Pete was standing up to his contract, and, since none of the Spooners cared much for "little Newt," he had small sympathy among his own kindred. To the left of Jackson's court-house sits Jackson's "jail-house"--for the mountaineer would as readily call a court-house a court as a jail-house a jail. It is a small building of home-baked bricks, and its windows are low and iron-barred. Just now, it was empty--save for Newt Spooner. The solitary inmate was not to be released until the Deacon spoke the word, but there was no intention of bringing him to trial. It was merely a case of "sobering up" explained the peace-maker, as he rejoined the street crowd. Not until the next day did the Deacon go to the boy there, and when he went, he went alone. "Son," he said sadly, as he looked down on the seated figure, which did not rise to receive him, "I hated to do you that way worse than I can tell you. You know why I had to do it, don't you?" "I knows," accused the boy bitterly, "that ye gits ever'body kilt thet ye wants kilt, an' I knows thet ye lied ter me an' fooled me. I knows thet ye've done been a damned traitor." "I reckon it does look right smart that way to you, son," acceded the other. "It can't hardly help seemin' that way--an' yet I was tryin' to save your life, an' I did save it." "I hain't none beholden ter ye fer thet," snorted Newt. "I didn't ask ye ter save my life. I'd a heap ruther ye'd quit a-meddlin' so damn' much in my business." "But listen, son. A man can afford to look ahead an' bide his time. Just now, we've got to lay low an' keep quiet. All the Spooners except you have agreed to do that. You're a young feller with your life ahead of you, and waitin' a little won't hurt you. You've got to let this Falkins boy alone for a year. When I talked to you at Winchester, I didn't rightly know how things stood down here. Give me your hand on that, an' I'll get you out of here." "I won't do hit," snapped the boy, defiantly. "Then I guess you'd better stay here a while." The Deacon's voice was regretful. "Ye means thet I kin lie in this jail-house tell I promises ye not ter hurt Henry Falkins?" "Till you promise not to hurt him for a year," amended the other.