"This is your return for my hospitality." "You are unjust, sir; we are but the instruments of public opinion, about to accomplish a painful duty, guided by our conscience and our sense of right. Do you give this man up to us, yes or no?" he continued. "Take him, if you insist; but as on your private authority you judge this man, I will defend him." "We are delighted to hear it." "When do you intend trying this man who is dangerously wounded and nearly insensible?" "He is not so ill as he pretends to be," replied Bright-eye; "and we intend trying him at once." "Come, then, for the matter is getting wearisome," said George. All returned to the house. Oliver and Numank had not spoken, but their firm step, their knitted brows, their flashing eyes, sufficiently indicated that they fully agreed with Bright-eye in his intentions. When they entered the room where the wounded man lay he was quite conscious; his face, of an earthy pallor, had two red spots on the cheeks; the pearly sweat fell heavily from his brow; his eyes were half closed, but he could clearly see through his lashes. His attitude was that of a tiger at bay, unaware from what side danger was likely to come. Bright-eye looked at him with such pertinacity that after a time he was compelled to open his eyes. The Canadian smiled, whispered to Keen-hand, who nodded his head, and soon left the hut. "Gentlemen," said Bright-eye in a loud tone, "we will at once proceed to instal the head of the court of Judge Lynch." "You are the chief," said the others. "I accept. You will be the accusers. I shall at once take my seat, as we are here to judge this man." "You forget I am here to defend him," remarked Clinton. "You are quite right," replied Bright-eye; "pray therefore attend carefully to the accusations I am about to make against him; you can then undertake his defence, if, indeed, when you know all, you care to do so." The wounded man had appeared motionless and insensible to all around him, but on hearing the generous words of the young man, spoken in a gentle voice, he seemed to shiver all over, and, raising himself a little, looked keenly at George Clinton, with a glance of gratitude. Bright-eye meanwhile reflected a moment, folded his arms, and throwing back his head spoke: "Prisoner," he said, "you are before a terrible tribunal. Judge Lynch has been appointed to condemn you if guilty, to absolve you if innocent. Prepare yourself to hear and answer the charges made against you." "I do not acknowledge the jurisdiction of Judge Lynch," said the man; "you are a tribunal of assassins." "As you please," replied the Canadian; "but your silence will be treated as a confession of guilt." The accused shuddered. "Why, instead of leaving me to die in the prairie, was I brought here?" he asked; "Is hospitality a mere trick?"