d run the single but sufficient word "death." Two fingers
would mean "life imprisonment"; three, "acquittal"; four would indicate
a "hung-jury." That time was still presumably far off, but the
arrangement for it was complete.

In a matter of seconds after that grim pantomime occurred, foremen of
printing crews standing by triple-decked presses in Louisville, in
Cincinnati--in many other towns as well--would reach down and lift from
the floor one of the several type metal forms prepared in advance to
cover each possible exigency. A switch would be flipped. Back to the hot
slag of the melting pots would go the other half-cylinders, and within
three minutes papers, damp with ink and news, would be pouring from the
maws of the presses into the hands of waiting boys.

To Boone these preparations were not yet comprehensible, but as
McCalloway led him to a seat far forward he felt the tense atmosphere of
place and moment.

He recognized, in those lines of opposing counsel, an array of
notability. He picked out, with a glare of hatred, the bearded man whom
the prosecution had brought as co-counsel, from another State, because
of his great repute as a breaker-down of witnesses under
cross-examination. Then his eyes lighted, as down the aisle came the
full figure of Colonel Tom Wallifarro--to take its place among the
attorneys for the defence. There was reassurance in his calmness and
unexcited dignity.

And after interminable preliminaries, he heard the voice of the clerk
droning from his docket, "The Commonwealth of Kentucky, against Asa
Gregory; wilful murder," and after yet other delays the velvety
direction from the bench, "Mr. Sheriff, bring the prisoner into court."

Asa's face, as he was led through the side door, was less bronzed than
formerly, but his carriage was no less erect or confident. In a new suit
of dark colour, with fresh linen instead of his hickory shirt, clean
shaven and immaculately combed, the defendant was a transformed person,
and if there remained any semblance of the highland desperado, it was to
be found only in the catlike softness of his tread and the falcon
alertness of his fine eyes. Pencils at the press table began their light
scratching chorus--the reporters were writing their description of the
accused.

Asa Gregory's line of defence had been foreshadowed in the examining
court. He had sworn that he arrived on the day of the shooting to
petition a pardon, and he had known nothing of wha