“Come, Gregory,” she entreated.  “Quick!  Corliss is waiting with the canoe.  Come!”

She shook him, and he managed to grip the weapon.  Then she pulled and tugged, as when awakening a heavy sleeper, till he was on his feet.  But his face was livid, his eyes like a somnambulist’s, and he was afflicted as with a palsy.  Still holding him, she took a step backward for him to come on.  He ventured it with a shaking knee.  There was no sound save the heavy breathing of many men.  A man coughed slightly and cleared his throat.  It was disquieting, and all eyes centred upon him rebukingly.  The man became embarrassed, and shifted his weight uneasily to the other leg.  Then the heavy breathing settled down again.

St. Vincent took another step, but his fingers relaxed and the revolver fell with a loud noise to the floor.  He made no effort to recover it.  Frona stooped hurriedly, but Pierre La Flitche had set his foot upon it.  She looked up and saw his hands above his head and his eyes fixed absently on Jacob Welse.  She pushed at his leg, and the muscles were tense and hard, giving the lie to the indifference on his face.  St. Vincent looked down helplessly, as though he could not understand.

But this delay drew the attention of Jacob Welse, and, as he tried to make out the cause, the chairman found his chance.  Without crooking, his right arm swept out and down, the heavy caulking-mallet leaping from his hand.  It spanned the short distance and smote Jacob Welse below the ear.  His revolver went off as he fell, and John the Swede grunted and clapped a hand to his thigh.

Simultaneous with this the baron was overcome.  Del Bishop, with hands still above his head and eyes fixed innocently before him, had simply kicked the pickle-keg out from under the Frenchman and brought him to the floor.  His bullet, however, sped harmlessly through the roof.  La Flitche seized Frona in his arms.  St. Vincent, suddenly awakening, sprang for the door, but was tripped up by the breed’s ready foot.

The chairman pounded the table with his fist and concluded his broken sentence, “Gentlemen, the prisoner is found guilty as charged.”

CHAPTER XXIX

Frona had gone at once to her father’s side, but he was already recovering.  Courbertin was brought forward with a scratched face, sprained wrist, and an insubordinate tongue.  To prevent discussion and to save time, Bill Brown claimed the floor.

“Mr. Chairman, while we condemn the attempt on the part of Jacob Welse, Frona Welse, and Baron Courbertin to rescue the prisoner and thwart justice, we cannot, under the circumstances, but sympathize with them.  There is no need that I should go further into this matter.  You all know, and doubtless, under a like situation, would have done the same.  And so, in order that we may expeditiously finish the business, I make a motion to disarm the three prisoners and let them go.”