“What do you think of it?” he asked.
“It looks like a poor piece of justice to me,” growled Moran. “That kid needed legal advice.”
“He could have had it, Moran. I’ve played easy with him. There’s not a juror from this end of the county, and I made no plea. What more could I do?”
“He was as good as hung before the trial started,” said Cutter.
“That’s the worst of it,” said English Ed. “I’m sorry for my part in it. Mallette was no good. No, I don’t mean that I uphold murdering a man because he’s no good. But I’m of the opinion that Mallette stole that pot, and if Pete had killed him on the spot, I’d have hired a lawyer to free him.”
Moran looked queerly at English Ed.
“I didn’t expect that from you, Ed.” The gambler flushed.
“I’ve been accused of a lot of things I never did, Moran.”
“I suppose.”
“The judge keeps an eye on me,” said the gambler softly. “He thinks I tried to run him out. I didn’t.”