Hanscom's fine eyes flamed with indignation. "It's an outrage. That girl is as innocent of Watson's killing as you are. I won't have her humiliated in this way." "You seem terribly interested in this young lady," remarked Throop, with a grin. Hanscom was in no mood to dodge. "I am--and I'm going to save her from coming here if I can." He started for the door. "I'll see Judge Brinkley and get her released. Carmody has no authority to hold her." "I hope you succeed," said the sheriff, sympathetically; "but at present I'm under orders from the coroner. It's up to him. So you think you've got the girl who made them tracks?" "I certainly do, and I want you to hold these prisoners till Carmody gets home. Don't let anybody see them, and don't let them talk with one another. They'll all come before that jury to-morrow, and they mustn't have any chance to frame up a lie." "All right. I see your point. Go ahead. Your prisoners will be here when you come back." Hanscom went away, raging against the indignity which threatened Helen. At Carmody's office he waited an hour, hoping the coroner might return, and, in despair of any help from him, set out at last for Brinkley's office, resolute to secure the judge's interference. The first man he met on the street stopped him with a jovial word: "Hello, Hans! Say, you want to watch out for Abe Kitsong. He came b'ilin' in half an hour ago, and is looking for you. Says you helped that Dutchman and his girl (or wife, or whatever she is) to get away, and that you've been arresting Henry, his nephew, without a warrant, and he swears he'll swat you good and plenty, on sight." Hanscom's voice was savage as he replied: "You tell him that I'm big enough to be seen with the naked eye, and if he wants me right away he'll find me at Judge Brinkley's office." The other man also grew serious. "All the same, Hans, keep an eye out," he urged. "Abe is sure to make you trouble. He's started in drinking, and when he's drunk he's poisonous as a rattler." "All right. I'm used to rattlers--I'll hear him before he strikes. He's a noisy brute." The ranger could understand that Rita's father might very naturally be thrown into a fury of protest by the news of his daughter's arrest, but Kitsong's concern over a nephew whom he had not hitherto regarded as worth the slightest care did not appear especially logical or singularly important. Brinkley was not in his office and so Hanscom went out to his house, out on the north bend of the river in a large lawn set with young trees. The judge, seated on his porch in his shirt-sleeves, exhibited the placid ease of a man whose office work is done and his grass freshly sprinkled. "Good evening, Hanscom," he pleasantly called. "Come up and have a seat and a smoke with the gardener."