He flung the appeal to the crowd. They growled assent.
"That's right—that's true."
"Do you hear them?" Hector cried. "There's proof, isn't it? Now, which of you two began it? You know, Welland, that I had a case sent unexpectedly from the East. Randall knows it. You know I said I was going to destroy it. Randall saw me smash it with an axe that same afternoon. Now, no one else in the world knew that whiskey had come to me! Then, which of you spread the story? That's what I want to know."
The crowd waited breathlessly.
Welland calmly flicked the ash from his cigar and smiled.
"Say, you can take this as straight," he asserted. "I've said nothing. If anyone's told any yarns, it's Randall there, not me."
And he glanced with stern contempt at the store-keeper.
Randall started, staring with alarm and consternation.
"Well, say!" he shrilled. "For God's sake, Welland——"
"You shut up!" flashed Welland. Then, quietly, to Hector: "That's your man, Adair."