By eight o'clock the following morning, every seat in the courtroom was taken; men crowded the aisles and perched on the window sills. At eight thirty the sheriff closed the doors and refused to allow any more to crowd in. Exactly at nine Judge Ransom stepped from his house and walked slowly down Main Street toward the courthouse. As he passed State Street, Dutchy and Silent Moore stepped up and followed him. The judge did not look back, but he knew they were there. He quickened his pace, for their presence reminded him forcibly of his danger. The crowd before the Red Queen grew silent as the judge approached. He nodded to several friends on the porch of the Comfort Hotel, as he cut across Depot Street toward a small door which led to his chambers. At his knock it was opened by the sheriff. The judge and his two shadows passed in, and the door was locked behind them. A few minutes later he entered the courtroom and took his seat on the bench; outwardly he was calm, inwardly he twitched with nervousness. The prisoner was brought in, the charge was read, and the trial was on. Pete Cable, a big brute of a man, grinned insolently. The judge realized with something of a shock that, in spite of the prisoner's pale skin and American name, he was a Mexican; he understood now why the Mexican vote would be against him in the next election. The Honorable J. T. Williams, the defense lawyer, had been imported from Washington at great expense. He towered over Bill Herrick, the little prosecuting attorney, who was obviously nervous and frightened. The judge wondered if Herrick, too, had been threatened, and, if so, if he had weakened. Tom Powers had seen to it that there was no chance to fix the jury. He had collected his panel only the night before, and no man knew he was to serve until given a summons, when he was straight-way conducted to the jail and locked up in a large room. From the first it was apparent that Williams sought delay. He did all in his power to make the trial drag and to encumber it with technicalities. He offered objection after objection, forced the judge to rule on a fine point of law at every opportunity. One by one the jurymen were called, and Williams challenged them peremptorily. He had no idea of the size of the panel called by the sheriff and hoped to force him to call another. If he were successful, the defense would not be caught napping again and would see that among those called there were several who would bring in a verdict of acquittal, no matter what the evidence. But by late afternoon Williams saw his challenges mostly used up, and still there was no sign of the end of the panel. The jury box was full before the court adjourned for the day. The judge was thoughtful as, followed by his two shadows, he walked home that evening. The die was cast; he had clearly shown that he was in the camp of justice. He refused to think of the consequences.