THE WOMAN. God knows I don’t want to see her commit murder. [She folds her shawl over her head].

THE SHERIFF. Now, Miss Evans: cut it short. Was the prisoner the man you saw this morning or was he not? Yes or no?

FEEMY

THE SHERIFF [losing patience] Here: weve had enough of this. You tell the truth, Feemy Evans; and let us have no more of your lip. Was the prisoner the man or was he not? On your oath?

FEEMY. On my oath and as I’m a living woman—[flinching] Oh God! he felt the little child’s hands on his neck—I cant [bursting into a flood of tears and scolding at the other woman] It’s you with your snivelling face that has put me off it. [Desperately] No: it wasn’t him. I only said it out of spite because he insulted me. May I be struck dead if I ever saw him with the horse!

[Everybody draws a long breath. Dead silence.]

BLANCO [whispering at her] Softy! Cry-baby! Landed like me! Doing what you never intended! [Taking up his hat and speaking in his ordinary tone] I presume I may go now, Sheriff.

STRAPPER. Here, hold hard.

THE FOREMAN. Not if we know it, you don’t.

THE BOYS [barring the way to the door] You stay where you are. Stop a bit, stop a bit. Dont you be in such a hurry. Dont let him go. Not much.