"You won't have to," declared the Master, stoutly; albeit he was beginning to feel a nasty sinking in the vicinity of his stomach.
"We'll manage to prove him innocent. I'll stake anything you like on that."
"Talk the case over with Dick Colfax or any other good lawyer before three o'clock," suggested Maclay. "There may be a legal loophole out of the muddle. I hope to the Lord there is."
"We're not going to crawl out through any 'loopholes,' Lad and I," returned the Master. "We're going to come through, clean. See if we don't!"
Leaving the telephone, he went in search of the Mistress, and more and more disheartened told her the story.
"The worst of it is," he finished, "Romaine and Schwartz seem to have made Maclay believe their fool yarn."
"That is because they believe it, themselves," said the Mistress, "and because, just as soon as even the most sensible man is made a Judge, he seems to lose all his common sense and intuition and become nothing but a walking statute-book. But you—you think for a moment, do you, that they can persuade Judge Maclay to have Lad shot?"
She spoke with a little quiver in her sweet voice that roused all the Master's fighting spirit.
"This Place is going to be in a state of siege against the entire law and militia of New Jersey," he announced, "before one bullet goes into Lad. You can put your mind to rest on that. But that isn't enough. I want to clear him. In these days of 'conservation' and scarcity, it is a grave offense to destroy any meat-animal. And the loss of eight sheep in two days—in a district where there has been such an effort made to revive sheep raising——"
"Didn't you say they claim the second lot of sheep were killed in the night and at dawn, just as they said the first were?" interposed the Mistress.