"Exactly. And by that very fact a social obligation comes into existence. Trouble is, every mother's son tries to escape it in his own case. What is every one's business is no one's business. Every fellow thinks he's got away from being bothered with such things. Sooner or later he'll find out he hasn't, and then he'll have to pay for his vacation." "We never stood for much thieving at Hangman's Gulch," I interposed. "What did you do?" "We whipped and sent them about their business." "To some other camp. You merely passed on your responsibility; you didn't settle it. Your whipping merely meant turning loose a revengeful and desperate man. Your various banishments merely meant your exchanging these fiends with the other camps. It's like scattering the coyotes that come around your fire." "What would you do, Doctor?" asked Randall quietly; "we have no regular law." "Why not? Why don't you adopt a little regular law? You need about three in this camp--against killing, against thievery, and against assault. Only enforce in every instance, as far as possible." "You can't get this crowd to take time investigating the troubles of some man they never heard of." "Exactly." "And if they get too bad," said Danny, "we'll have to get the stranglers busy." "Confound it, man!" roared Dr. Rankin, beating the table, "that's just what I've been trying to tell you. You ought not to care so much for punishing as for deterring. Don't you know that it's a commonplace that it isn't the terrifying quality of the penalty that acts as a deterrent to crime, but it's the certainty of the penalty! If a horse thief knows that there's merely a chance the community will get mad enough to hang him, he'll take that chance in hopes this may not be the time. If, on the other hand, he knows that _every time_ he steals a horse he's going to be caught and fined even, he thinks a long time before he steals it." "All that's true, Doctor," said Danny, "as theory; but now I'm coming to bat with a little practice. Here's the camp of Italian Bar in the year 1849. What would you do?" "Elect the proper officers and enforce the law," answered the doctor promptly. "Who would you elect?" "There are plenty of good men here." "Name me any one who would take the job. The good men are all washing gold; and they're in a hurry to finish before the rains. I don't care who you're about to name--if anybody; this is about what he'd say: 'I can't afford to leave my claim; I didn't come out here to risk my life in that sort of a row; I am leaving for the city when the rains begin, and I don't know that I'll come back to Italian Bar next season!'" "Make it worth their while. Pay them," insisted the doctor stoutly. "And how's the money to pay them to be collected? You'd have to create the officers of a government--and pay _them_." "Well, why not?"