divided audience. Gay shook his head, and two others
audibly disagreed with his methods. But, in spite of this, the weight
of opinion against Jim might easily have been carried had not the
carpenter suddenly swept the last chance clear from under Smallbones'
feet.

"Wal," cried the furious Jake, with such swift heat that even those
who knew him best were staggered, "I'd sooner call a cattle-rustler
friend than claim friendship, with such a low-down bum as Anthony
Smallbones. Say, you scrap-iron niggler," he cried, advancing
threateningly upon his victim. "I'll tell you something that ain't
likely leaked in that sieve head o' yours. Cattle-rustlers is mostly
men. Mebbe they're low-down, murderin' pirates, but they're men--as us
folks understands men. They ain't allus skunkin' behind Bible trac's
'cos they're scairt to git out in the open. They're allus ready to put
up a gamble, with their lives for the pot. An' when they gits it I
guess they're sure ready to take their med'cine wi'out squealin'.
Which needs grit an' nerve. Two things I don't guess Anthony
Smallbones has ever heerd tell of outside a dime fiction. No, sir, I
guess you got a foul, psalm-singin' tongue, but you ain't got no grit.
Say," he added witheringly, "I'd hate to see such a miser'ble
spectacle as you goin' to a man's death. I'd git sick feelin' sore I
belonged to the human race. Nope, you couldn't never be a man. Say,
you ain't even a--louse."

The laugh that followed ruined Smallbones' last chance of influencing
the public mind. He spluttered and shouted furiously, but no one would
listen. And, in the midst of his discomfiture, a diversion was created
by the entrance of a small man with a round, cheery face and bad feet.
He was a freighter. He walked to the bar, called for a drink, and
inquired where Mrs. Henderson lived. It was his inquiry that made him
the centre of interest at once.

"Mrs. Henderson?" said Silas, as he set the whiskey before his
customer. "Guess that's her shanty yonder." And he pointed through the
window nearest him. "Freight?" he inquired casually, after the little
man had taken his bearings.

"Sure. Harmonium."

"Eh?"

Rocket's astonishment was reflected in all the faces now crowding
round.

"Yep." Then the freighter perceived the interest he had created, and
promptly became expansive. "From the AEolian Musical Corporation,
Highfield, Californy. To order of William Henderson, shipped to wife
of same, Barnriff, Monta