There was about him the aspect of command. People ceased their talk to listen. "I move you, gentlemen," he shouted, "that a committee of twelve men be appointed from amongst us to retire and consider this situation calmly. They shall then report and if their findings are approved, they shall be law."
"Good! Good!" came a chorus of voices. "Hurray for Bill Coleman. Make him chairman."
Coleman bowed. "I thank you, gentlemen," he said, then crisply, like so many whip-cracks, he called the names of eleven men. One by one they answered and the crowd made way for them. Silently and in a body they departed.
"There's a leader for you," exclaimed Adrian to his brother-in-law. Benito nodded, eyes ashine with admiration. Presently there was a stir among the crowd. The jury was returning. "Well, gentlemen," the mayor raised his voice, "what is the verdict?"
Coleman answered: "We recommend that the prisoners be tried by the people. If the legal courts wish to aid they're invited. Otherwise we shall appoint a prosecutor and attorney for the prisoners. The trial will take place this afternoon."
"Hurray! Hurray!" the people shouted. The cheers were deafening.
CHAPTER XXXII
THE PEOPLE'S JURY
Benito, as he elbowed his way through a crowd which ringed the city hall that afternoon, was impressed by the terrific tight-lipped determination of those faces all about him. It was as though San Francisco had but one thought, one straight, relentless purpose--the punishment of crime by Mosaic law. The prisoners in the county jail appeared to sense this wave of retributive hatred, for they paced their cells like caged beasts.