That's all I know." She stepped down then and went back to her seat with Squint Rodaine and the son, fidgeting there again, craning her neck as before, while Fairchild, son of a man just accused of murder, watched her with eyes fascinated from horror.

The coroner looked at a slip of paper in his hand.
"William Barton," he called.

A miner came forward, to go through the usual formalities, and then to be asked the question: "Did you see Thornton Fairchild on the night he left Ohadi ?" "Yes, a lot of us saw him.

He drove out of town with Harry Harkins, and a fellow who we all thought was Sissie Larsen.

The person we believed to be Sissie was singing like the Swede did when he was drunk." "That's all.