Two alibis set up in defence failed of proof, because of the infamous character of the witnesses. Many developments of crimes committed jointly by the prisoner and some of his sympathizing friends, were made, which had the effect to drive the latter from the Territory before the close of the trial, but for which his conviction might possibly have been avoided. The prisoner was unmoved throughout the trial. Not a shade of fear disturbed the immobility of his features. Calm and self-possessed, he saw the threads of evidence woven into strands, and those strands twisted into coils as inextricable as they were condemnatory, and he looked out upon the stern and frigid faces of the men who were to determine his fate with a gaze more defiant than any he encountered. There were those near him who were melted to tears at the revelation of his cruelty and bloodthirstiness; there were even those among his friends who betrayed in their blanched lineaments their own horror at his crimes; but he, the central figure, equally indifferent to both, sat in their midst, as inflexible as an image of stone. [Illustration: COLONEL WILBUR F. SANDERS _Principal prosecutor of George Ives_ ] The scene, by its associations and objects, could not be otherwise than terribly impressive to all who were actors in it; it wanted none of the elements, either of epic force or tragic fury, which form the basis of our noblest poems. A whole community, burning under repeated outrages, sitting in trial on one of an unknown number of desperate men, whose strength, purposes, even whose persons, were wrapped in mystery! How many of that surging crowd now gathered around the crime-covered miscreant, might rush to his rescue the moment his doom should be pronounced, no one could even conjecture. No man felt certain that he knew the sentiments of his neighbor. None certainly knew that the adherents of the criminal were weaker, either in numbers or power, than the men of law and order. It was night, too, before the testimony closed; and in the pale moonlight, and glare of the trial fire, suspicion transformed honest men into ruffians, and filled the ranks of the guilty with hundreds of recruits. The jury retired to deliberate upon their verdict. An oppressive feeling, almost amounting to dread, fell upon the now silent and anxious assemblage. Every eye was turned upon the prisoner, seemingly the only person unaffected by surrounding circumstances. Moments grew into hours. “What detains the jury? Why do they not return? Is not the case clear enough?” These questions fell upon the ear in subdued tones, as if their very utterance breathed of fear. In less than half an hour they came in with solemn faces, with their verdict,—Guilty!—but one juror dissenting.