"Your honor."

"Well?"

"It ain't sweat. It's tears!"

"Tears!" Riley Sinclair started up, then slumped back on his stump with
a groan. "Tears!" he echoed, with a voice that was a groan. "John
Gaspar, what kind of a man are you?"

He turned back to the court with a frown.

"Mr. Jury," he said, "look at this prisoner we got. Look him over
considerable. I say, did you ever see a man like that? A man that ain't
able to love a girl like Sally Bent when she just about throws herself
at his head? Is he worth keeping alive? Look at him, and then listen to
me. I see the whole of it, Mr. Jury."

Buck Mason leaned forward with interest, glowering upon John Gaspar.

"This skunk of a John Gaspar gets Sally all tied up with his sappy
talk. Gets her all excited because he's something brand new and
different. Quade gets sore, nacherallike. Then he comes to Gaspar and
says: 'Cut out this soft talk to Sally, or I'll bust your head.' Gaspar
don't love Sally, but he's afraid of Quade. He goes and gets a gun. He
goes to Quade's house and tries to be friends. Quade kicks him out.
Gaspar climbs back on his hoss and, while he's sitting there, pulls out
a gun and shoots poor Quade dead. Don't that sound nacheral? He
wouldn't marry Sally, but he didn't want another man to have her. And
he wouldn't give up his soft berth in the house of Sally's brother. He