didn't have that kind of a mind. But I know any kind of a social idea fails without it. And I know if old Bill Douglas had built a church up there beside the schoolhouse, the chances are that Scott wouldn't have plugged Douglas last night. And mind, I don't believe in God, or the hereafter, or any of the dope they drug you with."
"What the hell are you driving at, Peter?" demanded Charleton.
"Say," shouted John, "is this a trial or a sermon?"
"It's neither," replied Peter. "We're just talking things over. My idea is that Doug shall sort of sit in judgment on Scott and the rest of us abide by his decision."
"Now, listen here!" exclaimed Scott. "This may be a funny joke, but I don't see it!"
Charleton laughed. "I'm with you, Peter. Only that won't pay my grudge."
John laughed too, with a little glance of pride toward his son's set, white face. "I'm on! Make it include his leaving Jude alone."
"Aw, you folks act plumb loco!" snarled Scott.
"Wait and see! Wait and see!" protested Peter. "And while Doug thinks it over, let me add something to what we were saying about old Bill Douglas. He used to act as a kind of unofficial judge in the valley?"
The others nodded.
"Did he ever," Peter went on, "make an important decision that he didn't try to look to the good and the future of Lost Chief? At least, I gathered that from the things Doug's mother used to tell me about the old man's pipe dreams."
John spoke soberly. "He was a just man. They don't make 'em that way any more."
