M'Ginnis sprang to his feet again.
"That's all very well," he cried, sticking to his question. "But it's not my idea of evidence. It wouldn't stand in any law court in the country. Snow-Shoes——"
"Shut up!"
"Sit down!"
Half a dozen voices growled.
Because of the respect and affection they had for him, and because of a certain aloof dignity he had with them, no man on the Ridge ever addressed Snow-Shoes as anything but Mr. Riley. They resented M'Ginnis calling him "Snow-Shoes" to his face, and guessed that he had been going to say something which would reflect on Snow-Shoes' reliability as a witness. They admitted his eccentricity; but they would not admit that his mental peculiarities amounted to more than that. Above all, they were not going to have his feelings hurt by this outsider from the Punti rush.
Broad-shouldered, square and solid, Bill Grant towered above the men about him. "This doesn't pretend to be a court of law, Mister M'Ginnis," he remarked, with an irony and emphasis which never failed of their mark when he used them, although he rarely did, and only once or twice had been heard to speak, at any gathering. "It's an inquiry by men of the Ridge into the doings of one of their mates. What they want to know is the rights of this business ... and what you consider evidence doesn't matter. It's what the men in this hall consider evidence matters. And, what's more, I don't see why you're butting into our affairs so much: you're not one of us—you're a newcomer. You've only been a year or so in the place ... and this concerns only men of the Ridge, who stand by the Ridge ways of doing things.... Michael's here to be judged by his mates ... not by you and your sort.... If you'd the brain of a louse, you'd understand—this isn't a question of law, but of principle—honour, if you like to call it that."
"Does the meeting consider the question answered?" George Woods inquired when Bill Grant sat down.
"Yes!"
A chorus of voices intoned the answer.