"So I told 'em." The reply was laconic, and it was supplemented in a slow drawl. "But you see they've known militia protection before—and that guarantee didn't satisfy them. They figure that the soldiers go away after awhile—but there's other forces that stay on all the time—and those other forces can wait months or years without forgetting or forgiving."
"And this terrorization paralyzes your courts of justice?"
"Well, no. It lets 'em run along in a fashion—as you've seen."
Mr. Sidney strove to repress his choler, but his manner was icy as he remarked: "That's a strange utterance for a judge on the bench."
"Is it?" Renshaw's quiet eyes showed just a glint of repressed anger. "Doesn't it work the same way in your district—or materially the same? Are your judges free from the coercion of strong interests? Are your jurors all willing to die for their duty?" After a brief silence he added: "Why, Mr. Sidney, you came here yourself ostensibly in the interest of friends and relatives who were unwilling to let this murder go 'unwhipped of justice'—them were your words. Yet we all know that you're the chief lawyer for a railroad that hasn't ever been famed for altruism."
The visitor flushed.
"While you were working up this evidence," inquired his honor, "did you go out and try to talk to Bear Cat Stacy?"
"Certainly not. He's an outlaw—whom your deputies failed to bring in when I had a subpoena issued. My life wouldn't be worth tuppence if I tried to get to him."
Judge Renshaw smiled somewhat grimly.
"Yes, they call him an outlaw—but he swings a power right now that this high court doesn't pretend to have. He's the one man that Kinnard fears—and maybe he'd help you if the two of you could get together."