“Yes, of course, but the court thinks you oughtn't to keep it too long!” “The 'court' is in his cups. He's sittin' over there in the plaza with his back against the flag pole, an' he won't budge. You listen--. “Judge, can I see you to your room for a few hours' sleep?” “What for?” asked the judge, eyeing the questioner solemnly. “Is there anything in the statutes of the State of California which forbids my pre-empting this small space on the highway? Is there any reason, if I am so inclined, that I should not teach my fellow-citizens the great moral lesson of the overthrow and debasement of genius by the demon rum? Am I not better employed than if in a stifling, tobacco-perfumed courtroom, beating law into the thick skull of a lawyer, who doesn't know Blackstone from white quartz? But, if you have four bits on you, and should ask me to join you--Ah, you have?” “Well,” said the sheriff to Anthony, after they had vanished into a near bar, “I'll have to put you in the jug till court convenes.” * * * * * Buckeye Pete was celebrating. He seemed to be suddenly flush with “dust” and was dispensing drinks with a liberality which soon brought him a numerous following. By midnight it was a well-mellowed assemblage. “Mignon, how long have you been dealin'?” “About tree, four mont', Monsieur.” “I don't mean here. I mean altogether.” “About six ye-ar, Monsieur.” “You must be well off by this time. An' they say that you've earned it all workin', and that you're straight. Say, I'll marry you, if you say the word--” “You say, they say, too much, Monsieur.” “Here! Don't you go givin' me no orders, you French crinoline fluff!” “I ordair no man, an' no man is ordair me!” She stared him down with her glittering, black eyes, and returned to her dealing. Pete strolled out, followed by his satellites. When the noises in the street grew louder it caused no particular comment. It was the usual thing. But when a crowd burst into the Royal Flush, Mignon sprang to her feet with a cry of anguish. “Dealt me a raw deal, didn't yeh, you smart Frenchie?” gloated Buckeye Pete. “Well, look at your man. Take a good look, an' don't miss the necktie he's wearin'. Pretty li'l rope choker we got for Dandy Anthony. Ain't no man can go killin' an' get away with it, while I'm here,” looking around for applause. “Name of a pig!” hissed Mignon. “You--you would.” “Sure' we would! Right out on the lynchin' tree.” She turned and dashed for the rear. “Ze sheriff! He must come toute suite!” “Min,” whispered Soft-soap Joe, the bartender, “he left two hours ago on a new case, otherwise they wouldn't a-dared do this.” “Mon Dieu! An' ze justice, he is intoxicate! Mother Marie, pray for him,” she cried, in her own language, and she ran after the lynching party.