It was not a long speech and had nothing of dramatic appeal; and yet as it came out, this was Angevine Thorne's closing speech. When he saw how the pendulum had swung, Shepherd Kilkenny, the fighting district attorney, went into a black, frowning silence and refused to speak to Old Crit; but as the judge began his instructions to the jury he suddenly roused up and beckoned to Boone Morgan. They whispered together while the law was being read and then the sheriff went over and spoke a few words to Pecos Dalhart. "Sure!" nodded Pecos, and at the signal Shepherd Kilkenny rose quickly to his feet. "Your Honor," he said, bowing apologetically to the judge, "in consideration of the evidence which has just been introduced I wish to withdraw my former request to the jury, and I now ask for a verdict of 'Not guilty.'" He sat down, and a hum went up from the crowded court-room like the zooning of swarming bees. There was something coming—something tremendous—that they all knew; and when the verdict was given not a man moved from his place. Then Boone Morgan rose up from beside the district attorney and touched Isaac Crittenden on the shoulder. There was nothing rough about it, and Crittenden followed without a word, but the significance was plain. The man who had sworn others into prison had done as much for himself, and it would take a Philadelphia lawyer to turn him loose. He had sworn that the cow was his, and the ear keys showed that he lied. Swallow-fork and crop, and Mexican marks above, and Old Funny-face, wagging her mangled ears in court! There had never been a cow-thief convicted in the Geronimo courts, and Old Crit would spend every cent he had to keep out of jail, but if Shepherd Kilkenny could not get him on evidence like that, then tyranny is dead and the devil has lost his claws. CHAPTER XXI NEVER AGAIN