this is the man y'r fulthy sheriff poltroon coward says she'd
shoot! Men, men o' th' Nation, murder has been done here: coward
assassin murder on an innocent man! The notes on the mine have been
robbed from his pocket. Who planned this murder? Who shot MacDonald
by mistake? Who planned th' Rim Rocks outrage? Is it to this y' have
let y'r Democracy come? Is this y'r self government workin' worse
outrage than the despotism o' Russia? We'd have hanged our kings in
Scotland for less sin! France would a' tanned her rulers' hide into
moccasins for less! What are y' goin' to do about it." His shout rang
and rang through the court. "Will ye make of self-government a farce,
a screamin' shame, a shriekin' laughter in th' ears o' th' world?"

There were cries of "Sit down! Sit down! Shut up! Go on! Who is the
old tow-head?" Then some one cried out "Moyese." Half the spectators
cheered. Half hissed. Then a voice yelled "Wayland! Wayland!" and
Eleanor felt the leap to her blood; for the crowd outside took up the
cry "Wayland, Wayland? What's the matter with Wayland?"

The Sheriff and Coroner were on the table shouting for "order--order"
when some wag heaved under and upset table, sheriff, coroner and all.

The last Eleanor saw before the news editor and Wayland pushed Mrs.
Williams and herself through a door behind the coroner's seat to a
taxicab that whirled them off to the hotel, was a wild sprawling of the
Sheriff coming down in mid-air. Bat Brydges and the downy-lipped
youth, chalky white as a dead birch tree, were letting themselves
hastily out through a back window. Matthews was being carried down the
aisle on the shoulders of a howling rabble of men and boys. His head
was bare; his coat was almost torn from his shoulders. His face was
passionate with jubilant laughter. "Yell, boys! Yell for Wayland," he
was urging. Could Eleanor have known what happened at the door, her
heart would have beat still faster. The old frontiersman brought her
word two hours later when he joined them at the hotel.

"They hauled me out to th' steps o' th' court house," he said, "an' A
says 'Yell boys! Yell, Yell like Hell for Wayland!' An' they set me
down on th' steps an' began yellin' 'Speech! Speech!' A held up m'
two hands like this. 'Men,' says I, 'y' ask for a word! Well, A'll
give it t' you. A'll give it t' y' from the door o' y'r own sacred
court o' justice, which y' have seen profaned this day by injus