dened with grief and shame and ready for any
fate.

The sheriff, his face showing an agony of perplexity, turned over to the
coroner all the weapons and other "plunder" he had brought from the
house, and querulously announced that he couldn't find a shotgun
anywhere around, and only one small rifle. "And there wasn't a pointed
shoe on the place," he added, forcibly.

"That proves nothing," insisted Abe. "They've had time to hide 'em or
burn 'em."

"Well, bring them both over here and let's get to business," said the
coroner. "It's getting late."

As Hanscom assisted the accused woman from the wagon he detected youth
and vigor in her arm. "Don't be afraid," he repeated. "I will see that
you are treated right."

Her hand clung to his for an instant as she considered the throng of
hostile spectators, for she apprehended their hatred quite as clearly as
she perceived the chivalrous care of the ranger, and she kept close to
his side as he led the way to the cabin.

Kauffman was at once taken indoors, but the young woman, under guard of
a deputy, was given a seat on the corner of the porch just out of
hearing of the coroner's voice.

Carmody, who carried all the authority, if not all the forms, of a court
into his interrogation, sharply questioned the old man, who said that
his name was Frederick Kauffman and that he was a teacher of music.

"I was born near Munich," he added, "but I have lived in this country
forty years, mostly in Cincinnati. This young lady is my stepdaughter.
It is for her health that I came here. She has been very ill."

Carmody nodded to the sheriff, and Throop with a deep sigh and most
dramatic gesture lifted the shroud which concealed the dead man.
"Approach the body," commanded the coroner, and the jurors watched every
motion with wide, excited eyes, as though expecting involuntary signs of
guilt; but Kauffman calmly gazed upon the still face beneath him.

"Do you recognize this body?" demanded the coroner.

"I do," said Kauffman.

"When did you see him last?"

"Oh, two or three days ago," answered Kauffman.

"You may be seated," said the coroner.

Under close interrogation the old man admitted that he had had some
trouble with Watson. "Once I forced him to leave my premises," he said.
"He was drunk and insulting."

"Did you employ a weapon?"

"Only this "--here he lifted a sturdy fist--"but it was sufficient. I
have not forgotten my gymnastic training."

Prompted by Kitsong,