a minute." he said. "Don't you boys do anything that'll be on your consciences afterwards. Nobody ever got anywhere by defeating the law. You are all men of good standing. You represent the future of this valley. Many times I have heard you folks speak harshly of the old days when everything ran wild. Well, you are right. Don't make that error yourselves. Remember, it's you men who will serve on the jury in this man's case or, if not, at least men of your own kind. Fair play! Give the man a chance in court."
"Did he give us a chance?" Colqueen roared. "It was all a passel of lies! Lies from beginning to end. If he was square he wouldn't be there cringing like a whipped dog nor he wouldn't have tried to get away. But we ain't got no proof of that in a court. He's guilty as Satan—but there's not enough evidence to put him where he belongs. You figure that to be justice?"
"Who said there wasn't evidence?" Offut demanded. "Maybe there's no evidence to hold him on the land deal, but we've got him caught on cattle thievery. This man was a confederate of the Chattos. There's not a judge who wouldn't put him in prison."
The more thoughtful members of the mob began to collect themselves. Ballou, scanning the upturned faces, saw reason coming back. But Colqueen and the younger hot-heads were still smarting under their troubles.
"Who says there's evidence enough?" Colqueen demanded.
Offut put a hand on Ballou's shoulder, at which the hubbub rose again and continued for several minutes.
Until then Lin had never quite realized the sentiment against him. It ran terribly strong. From several corners he was assailed by jeering, half-articulate malice which Colqueen managed to express in words.
"Him? Why, Lin's a cattle rustler himself. You ought to know that, seeing as you caught him. Take his word? Far as us homesteaders are concerned it don't make no difference how many cows are stolen. It's none of our concern. But damn it, we're going to get some satisfaction for losing all our money."
"No—no—no," Offut said, patiently repeating the words until he had command of their attention again.
Ballou's attention switched to another part of the room. The long, angular frame of his companion of the mesa, Bill, towered in the doorway and tried to wedge himself through the packed crowd. He motioned to Lin and nodded his head vigorously several times. Offut, meanwhile, had calmed the mob somewhat.
"You folks are impatient. Lin Ballou is as straight as a string. As honest as I am. I'll vouch for him, and if you know my reputation that must count for something. He has been my agent—the agent of the cattle committee. He had to make himself out a crook to catch other crooks. It is due to him that we've got the Chattos—one dead, one alive—and that we can put Lestrade in prison. You boys owe Lin an apology."
This was a poser. Coming from such a man as W. W. Offut it was not to be lightly challenged. Offut had never in his life been anything but square and they knew it. There and then the animus of the mob seemed to lose its strength, the members of it recollecting their better senses. Lin Ballou stepped down from the rostrum, caught hold of Bill's onward reaching arm and by sheer strength pulled him through the last rank of the crowd.
"Tell me in a hurry. What's the answer? How'd you get back so sudden?"
"I thought I'd better speed things," Bill whispered, "so I dropped off at Pinto and used the telegraph. Got an answer to the effect that we was authorized to just about write our own ticket. Now you get up there and spill it. It'll be happy news for somebody."
Ballou stepped back to the rostrum and faced the waiting crowd. "Let me have a word in this controversy. You folks had better forget Lestrade and let him take what the judge hands him. Which will sure be plenty. I know you folks are out a pile and I can just about tell you why. Lestrade never wanted to finish that irrigation scheme. If he knows as much about the land in this valley as I do—and I think he does—he wanted to get hold of it for himself."
"Heck of a lot of good he'll get from it," Colqueen muttered, for once losing his faith in the land.
"As far as farming goes, that's right," Lin agreed. "Yo boys who were at the dance that time will remember I bucked like a steer at the idea of water. Why? Because this country can't afford it. But there is something under all this sand and alkali that's worth forty thousand farms."
That caught the crowd's attention. Every last man craned his neck.
"You boys thought I was an awful fool frittering my time away, prospecting for gold. And I would have been a fool, sure enough, if gold was what I wanted. But it wasn't. Bill here—" he motioned to the lanky youth—"is a geologist. The best in this man's state. He's employed by the Alamance Mineral Corporation. Guess you know that name, don't you?"
Very few didn't. It ranked as the largest mining concern in the state. Even W. W. Offut turned his head when he heard the name, and watched Lin closely.
"Well, the sum and substance of it is," Lin went on, enjoying the suspense, "that Bill and I have been all over the valley floor, poking little holes in the ground. That's a sideline nobody knows anything about. As a result I can announce with a right smart amount of satisfaction that this valley is underlaid with what may be the richest bed of potash in America."
There was a sound as if a gust of wind had passed through the room. Hank Colqueen shook his head several times. W. W. Offut began to smile, a rare thing for him.
"Now potash," Lin proceeded, "is a mighty valuable thing. I'm no teacher, but I might say it's so valuable that most of it comes from Europe. Bill tells me to say that the Alamance Mineral Corporation is ready—if all tests are as good as those we have made—to stand back of a development of these beds to the fullest extent. That means we'll prosper. That's all I've got to say, except to point out that this is probably the reason Lestrade wanted to break all you folks and take the land himself."
"Lestrade and Judge Henry—" Colqueen started to break in with a last dying spark of rebellion.
"Judge Henry had nothing to do with it," Lin Ballou said. "Lestrade worked him. You ought to be able to figure that out."
A voice came from the rear of the crowd. Lin saw Judge Henry standing unsteadily in the doorway, one arm holding to his daughter. "Boys, boys, if you think I'm a crook, I'll turn over any profit I make to you. It ain't much, because I'm stuck as deep as the rest, but whatever comes from the Henry place is yours."
The crowd roared—not with resentment this time, but with approval. Those nearest the judge slapped him on the back. Hank Colqueen disappeared in the sea of bobbing faces, no more to be seen. Lin jumped from the rostrum and fought his way through the mass until he was beside Gracie. The girl seemed on the point of crying. Whether it was from happiness or sorrow Lin could not tell, until she looked up to him and smiled, lips trembling.
"Oh, Lin, I'm so glad folks know you're straight—as I've known so very, very long."
"What made you come here?" Lin demanded. "Into all this grief?"
In a few words she told him of Lestrade's visit. "After that," she said, "Dad saw settlers going toward Powder and he decided to face them immediately. You don't know what a strain it's been and how glad I am it's all over."
"I think," he said, growing red, "that I really ought to get a reward."
"What?"
"I think you should go home and bake me another apple pie."
"Oh," she said in a disappointed tone. "Is that all?"
"Well,"
