e points
to you."

He seemed too dazed to grasp the words and Mattison said it twice before
he comprehended.

"Do you mean he's dead?" Rad repeated. "And I quarrelled with him last
night and wouldn't make it up--and now it's too late."

"I must warn you," the sheriff returned, "that whatever you say will be
used against you."

"I am innocent," said Radnor, brokenly, and without another word he
prepared to go. Mattison drew some hand-cuffs from his pocket, and
Radnor looked at them with a dark flush.

"You needn't be afraid. I am not going to run away," he said. Mattison
dropped them back again with a muttered apology.

I went out to the stable with one of the men and helped to saddle Jennie
Loo. I felt all the time as though I had hold of the rope that was going
to hang him. When we came back he and the sheriff were standing on the
portico, waiting. Rad appeared to be more composed than any of us, but
as I wrung his hand I noticed that it was icy cold.

"I'll attend to everything," I said, "and don't worry, my boy. We'll get
you off."

"Don't worry!" He laughed shortly as he leaped into the saddle. "It's
not myself I'm worrying over; I am innocent," and he suddenly leaned
forward and scanned my face in the light from the open door. "You
believe me?" he asked quickly.

"Yes," I cried, "I do! And what's more, I'll _prove_ you're innocent."

CHAPTER XII

I MAKE A PROMISE TO POLLY

The next few days were a nightmare to me. Even now I cannot think of
that horrible period of suspense and doubt without a shudder. The
coroner set to work immediately upon his preliminary investigation, and
every bit of evidence that turned up only seemed to make the proof
stronger against Radnor.

It is strange how ready public opinion is to believe the worst of a man
when he is down. No one appeared to doubt Rad's guilt, and feeling ran
high against him. Colonel Gaylord was a well-known character in the
countryside, and in spite of his quick temper and rather imperious
bearing he had been a general favorite. At the news of his death a wave
of horror and indignation swept through the valley. Among the roughs in
the village I heard not infrequent hints of lynching; and even among
the more conservative element, the general opinion seemed to be that
lawful hanging was too honorable a death for the perpetrator of so
brutal a crime.

I have never been able to understand the quick and general belief in the
boy's guilt, but