The old cattleman called at once upon the leading lawyer for the defense, and with him visited the cell of Yerby. The Texan was greatly depressed at the issue of the trial. He could not get over his bitterness at the part Silcott had played.
“I reckon he’s up at the ho-tel eating fried chicken and watermelon. Well, he’s welcome. I wouldn’t swap places with him. Neither would Mac. We all had our chance to do like he done.”
“No, Silcott’s still in jail. He asked Matson to keep him there till the trials are over and he can light out. I expect he don’t like to trust himself outside. Some of the boys are a mite vexed at him.” Roswell came abruptly to the object of his call. “Sam, we got to face facts. Haight has the goods on you boys. He’ll sure convict you.”
“Looks like,” agreed the Texan dejectedly.
“We’ll have to fix up a compromise. If you’ll all plead guilty Haight is willing to call it life imprisonment.”
“What do the other boys say?”
“They are willing, I reckon, to take the best terms they can get.”
“I’d as lief be dead as locked up in jail for the rest of my life.”
“We’ll get you out on parole in two or three years. The worst of it is that Mac ain’t included in the arrangement. Haight swears he has got to hang.” Eyes narrowed to slits, Roswell watched the Texan while he fired his next shot. “Mac was the leader. There wouldn’t ’a’ been any killing except for him. He’s the responsible party. So Haight says that——”
“Got it all figured out, have you? Mac did the killing. Mac was to blame. I’ll tell you this: If Mac had had his way there wouldn’t have been any killing. Just because he shuts his mouth and stands the gaff—— Dog-gone it, you and Haight can take yore compromise plumb to hell!” decided the Texan, his anger rising.