"Please your honor," he said, "I know something about this case," and the crowd gave way for him. Then, showing his credentials, he told the story of the manner in which Crooked Antonio had fired into the Survey tent, and later had shot at the prisoner to remove a possible witness. It was the only point needed, and as it was obvious that Crooked Antonio had been killed, the prisoner could not be acquitted. He was found guilty and fined one cent, that justice might be done, and five minutes later Roger was receiving the effusive thanks of the erstwhile prisoner.
"Well," said Roger to himself, as they parted, "helping a chap to his liberty isn't such a bad record to leave as your last act in the Pecos country."
CHAPTER XII
THE ALASKAN TRIP BEGUN
It seemed to Roger that he was years older when he entered the gray portals of the Geological Survey building in Washington and walked past the big relief models on the wall, to face what he felt to be the crucial question in his career—whether his season's work in the Survey would merit his acceptance by Rivers for the Alaskan trip. He found his official superior, Mr. Herold, engaged, and so went in to thank his friend Mitchon for the interest that he had shown and the kindly letters he had written.
It seemed quite home-like to him, entering once more the offices of the Geological Survey, and he spent a pleasant half-hour chatting over his experiences, his later excitements in the Pecos country arousing special interest. He was about to go when his friend stopped him with a gesture.
"Wait till I come back," he said.
A few minutes later he returned, saying:
"The Director would like to see you for a moment." The boy looked up with surprise, and the secretary continued reassuringly, "There's nothing to be scared about, I don't think you'll consider it bad news."
Roger rose promptly and went to the Director's office, and the latter shook hands heartily and motioned him to a seat.