“John,” said his interrogator, “you had better be looking forward to another world. You are ‘played out’ in this one, sure.”
“I did not commit that crime,” was his reply, “and if you’ll give me a chance, I’ll clear myself.”
The leader now said to him, “John, you can never do it, for you knew of a man lying dead here, close to your home, for nine days, and never reported his murder. You deserve hanging for that alone. Why didn’t you come and tell the people of Virginia City?”
“I was afraid,” said John. “It would have been as much as my life was worth to have done it. I dared not.”
“Afraid? Of whom?” inquired the leader.
“I was afraid of the men around here,” he answered.
“What men? Who are they?” persisted the leader.
“I dare not tell who they are,” said John, in a frightened tone: “there’s one of them around here.”
“But you must tell, if you would save yourself. Where is the one you speak of?”
“There’s one at the wakiup,—the one that killed Nick Tiebalt.”