"Tires, Charley?" he asked. "He was going to give you tires for what?"
On that question the old man rose. "Nothin'," he whimpered. "He wasn't going to give me nothin'!"
He started to edge away, but John stepped before him, stooping to stare close into his face.
"Yes he was, Charley. Tell these men what you did to earn those tires!"
"No, no!" trying to tear his eyesirom that insistent gaze.
The old man stared about, sniffing, breath very fast, eyes hunted. He looked at John again and shook his head, but there was no conviction about the gesture and as Taylor started to speak he cried out:
"Oh, I didn't want to! He made me—said I'd go to jail if I didn't set that fire." A stir; added tension, as the group became more compact.
"And what else? That's only a part of it. What else, Charley? Where were you the night the logs burned, the night the dam went out?"
"Oh, I didn't—he made me!—he said I'd go to jail! He told me I would if I didn't set fire to her logs an' drive spikes in some an' blow up her dam. He told me that!" He looked down at the unconscious man at his feet and clasped trembling hands. "He made me!" throwing those hands wide for mercy. "I didn't want to, but he made me—he—he—"
Charley looked about again as his voice died to a whisper. His roving gaze set itself on Phil Rowe's face. The man quailed and started to move away.
"Hold on, Phil!" It was Taylor again and after a moment: "What else, Charley? Who else threatened you?"
