I mean after all, didn't we, sir? a brilliant defence most ably

conducted. Your fellows should be grateful to you, Duff complimented

him, then turned to his Committee. Well now, how say you merry

gentlemen. Guilty or not guilty? Guilty. They spoke together and

Francois added for emphasis, the dirty thunders. We will now consider

sentence. String them up, shouted someone and instantly the mood

changed. The mob growled: an ugly sound. I'm a carpenter, I'll whip

you up a handsome set of gallows in no time at all. Don't waste good

wood on them. Use a treeGet the ropes. String them up. The crowd

surged in, lynch mad. Sean snatched Franco is's shotgun and jumped up

onto the table. So help me God, I'll shoot the first one of you that

touches them before this court says so. They checked and Sean pressed

his advantage. At this range I can't miss.

Come on, try me, there's two loads of buckshot in here.

Someone will get cut in half. They fell back still muttering. Perhaps

you've forgotten, but there's a police force in this country and there's

a law against killing. Hang them today and it'll be your turn tomorrow!

You're right, Mr Courtney, it'll be cruel heartless murder. That it

will, wailed the spokesman. Shut up, you bloody fool, Duff snarled at

him and someone in the crowd laughed. The laughter caught on and Duff

sighed silently with relief. That had been very close. Give them the

old tar and feathers. Duff grinned. Now you're talking sense. Who's

got a few barrels of tar for sale! He looked round. What, no offers?

Then we'll have to think of something else! We got ten drums of red

paint, thirty shillings each, good imported brand. Duff recognized the

speaker as a trader who had opened a general dealer's store down at

Ferrieras Camp. Mr Tarry suggests paint. What about it? No, it comes

off too easily, that's no goodI'll let you have it cheap, twenty-five

shillings a drum No, stick your ruddy paint, the crowd booed him. Give

them a twist on Satan's Roulette Wheel, shouted another voice, and the

crowd clamoured agreement. That's it, give them the wheel. Round and

round and round she goes, where she stops nobody knows, roared a

black-bearded digger from the roof of the shanty across the road. The

crowd howled.

Sean watched Duff's expression, the smile had gone.

He was weighing it up. If he stopped them again they might lose all

patience and risk the shotgun. He couldn't chance it. All right. If

that's what you want. He faced the terrified cluster of prisoners. The

sentence of this court is that you play roulette with the devil for one

hour and that you then leave this goldfield, if we catch you back here

again you'll get another hour of it. The wounded are excused the first

half of the sentence. I think they've had enough. Mr du Toit will

supervise the punishment. We'd prefer the paint, Mr Charleywood,

pleaded the spokesman again. I bet you would, said Duff softly, but the

crowd was carrying them away already, out towards the open veld beyond

the Hotel. Most of them had staked claims of their own and they didn't

like claim jumpers. Sean climbed down off the table.

Let's go and have a drink, Duff said to him.

Aren't you going to watch? asked Sean. I've seen it done once before

down in the Cape. That was enough. What do they do? Go and have a

look, I'll be waiting for you at the Bright Angels. I'll be surprised

if you stay the full hour. By the time Sean joined the crowd most of

the wagons had been gathered from the camps and drawn up in a line.

Men swarmed round them fitting jacks under the axles to lift the big

back wheels clear of the ground. Then the prisoners were hustled

forward, one to each wheel. Eager hands lifted them and held them while

their wrists and ankles were lashed to the rim of the wheel with the hub

in the middle of their backs and their arms and legs spread-eagled like

stranded starfish. Francois hurried along the line checking the ropes

and placing four diggers at each wheel, two to start it and another two

to take over when those were tired. He reached the end, came back to

the centre again, pulled his watch from his pocket, checked the time,

then shouted. All right, turn them, kerels The wheels started moving,

slowly at first then faster as they built up momentum. The bodies

strapped to them blurred with the speed. Round and round and round she

goes, round and round and round she goes, chanted the crowd gleefully.

Within minutes there was a burst of laughter from the end of the line of

wagons. Someone had started vomiting, it sprayed from him like yellow

sparks from a Catherine wheel. Then another and another joined in, Sean

could hear them retching and gasping as the centrifugal force flung the