"W'y—er—'Guilty'!"
"Pass the juror!" snapped the district attorney, and then he looked at the counsel for the defendant as if imploring him not to waste any of the court's valuable time.
"Mr. Rambo," began Angy, singing the words in a child-like, embarrassed manner, "you are engaged in the business of raising cattle, are you not?"
The district attorney winced at this, but Angevine Thorne did not take advantage of his discovery. He also wanted a jury of twelve cowmen, though he did not show his hand.
"Very good," he observed, "and I suppose, Mr. Rambo, that you are acquainted with the law in this case which makes it a felony for any man to mark or brand the stock of another man? Very good. Have you any prejudice against that law, Mr. Rambo? You believe that it should be enforced impartially, do you not—against the rich as well as the poor? Very good. Pass the juror!"
For a moment Shepherd Kilkenny could hardly believe his ears. The drift of every one of the questions had led naturally up to a challenge and yet at the end Angy had passed the juror. He glanced quickly at the innocent face of his opponent, opened his mouth to speak, and then hurried on with his examination. The second man was interested in the cattle business, too; and when Angy passed him the judge felt called upon to speak.
"You know, do you not, Mr. Thorne," he said, "that it is your privilege to excuse any juror whose occupation or condition of mind might indicate a prejudice against your client?"
"Yes, indeed, Your Honor," replied Mr. Thorne, suavely, "but I have perfect confidence in the integrity of the two gentlemen just passed. I feel sure that they will do full justice to Mr. Dalhart."
"Very well, then," said His Honor, "let the examination proceed!"
With all the address of a good tactician who sees that his opponent has mistaken a two-spot for an ace, Shepherd Kilkenny flew at his task, but each time that Angy passed one of his cowmen he paused just the fraction of a second, glanced apprehensively about the room, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The defence was playing right into his hand, but he didn't know whether he liked it or not. When it came to the peremptory challenges he excused two health-seekers and a mining man, but Thorne did not challenge a man. Once more the clerk shook the names out of his box and within half an hour the district attorney had the very jury he wanted—every man of them interested in the cattle business and ready to cinch a rustler as they would kill a rattlesnake. It seemed almost too good to be true. Even the staid judge was concerned, for he had a sober sense of justice and Angy's appointment had been slightly irregular; but after a long look at that individual he motioned for the trial to proceed. The evidence was all against the defendant anyway, and he could cut off a year or two on the sentence to make amends.