Bill Sandersen was a cold man, but such unbelievable heartlessness
chilled him. Into his mind rushed a temptation suddenly to denounce the
real slayer before them all. He checked that temptation. In the first
place it would be impossible to convince five men who had already made
up their minds, who had already acquitted Sinclair of the guilt. In the
second place, if he succeeded in convincing them, there would be an
instant gunplay, and the first man to come under Sinclair's fire, he
knew well enough, would be himself. He drew a long breath and waited.

"Good friends, gentlemen," Gaspar was saying, "I don't even know what
you accuse me of. Kill a man? Why should I wish to kill a man? You know
I'm not a fighter. Gentlemen--"

"Jig," cut in Buck Mason, "you was as good as seen to murder. You're
going to hang. If you got anything to say make a confession."

Gaspar attempted to throw himself on his knees, but his weight struck
against the rope. He staggered back to his feet, struggling for breath.

"For mercy's sake--" began Gaspar.

"Cut it short, boys!" cried Buck Mason. "Up with him!"

The four men at the rope reached a little higher and settled their
grips. In another moment Gaspar would dangle in the air. Now Riley
Sinclair made his decision. The agonized eyes of the condemned man,
wide with animal terror, were fixed on his face. Sinclair raised his
hand.

"Wait!"