"I ain't so sure," said he, "that this'll prove anything. But we aim to hang this feller Bass. You aim to hang that yellow-belly. If it's agreeable to them, I reckon we cain't raise any objections. We'll have a hanging anyhow, and Jerry'll rest easier." Baptismo still clicked the dice automatically. He wetted his lips and assured them in a dry voice that this would be satisfactory to him and eminently fair. Perhaps Baptismo was not unbiased. The dice were his, and he knew that if held in a certain position in the palm of the hand, they could be thrown to suit the needs of the player. Their minds diverted by the possibilities of this trial by luck, the crowd fell in quickly with the suggestion. It savored of the rough justice to which they were accustomed, and if the parties principally concerned were willing, why should they withhold sanction to the ordeal? Moreover, it gave an opportunity for divine intervention. Johnson got down from his horse and removed the rope from Mordecai's neck. "Here, you! Wake up!" cried several, shaking him by the shoulders. Somebody shoved a bottle to his lips and he groaned and speedily revived. Then they explained to him as clearly as several tongues talking at once could do, what the nature of the test was. "I reckon you'll hang me anyhow, if I don't?" he asked. They signified that such was their intent. "Then, of course, I'll throw," said he. "It ain't fair, but it's my only chance." Bass was still too weak to realize fully what was transpiring. The mob took no account of this, but surged forward to the spot originally selected for the hanging. It was a tree, which grew back of a flat rock. The advantage of this site was that the two could roll the dice on the rock, and then the one who was guilty could be hanged from the tree without further inconvenience. Lafe went ahead, piloting the two principals by the arms, one on each side of him. He placed them side by side in front of the rock. The half-breed picked up the dice. "One throw, or best out of three?" he inquired. There was a pause, while the crowd looked to Bass. "One will do as well as a hundred, I reckon," said he. Baptismo gave a grunt of satisfaction and shook the dice in his hand. With a twist along his two first fingers he spun them on the rock. A double six! Twelve! A long sigh came from the crowd, and then they all began to talk. Somebody cheered. Assuredly this proved everything. A double six was the highest that could be thrown. Baptismo could not be beaten. True, his throw might be tied--so, too, an elephant might fly. The odds against Bass seemed utterly hopeless. He looked at the dice dully for a minute and then turned to Lafe. "I reckon I'm done for," said he, "but God knows I didn't do it." "If you did," Johnson said, his eyes troubled, "you fight mighty well for a feller who'd stab in the back."