"Now," resumed Semple, after this matter had been disposed of, "there's a bunch of these yere keskydees around throwin' assorted duckfits all this morning; and as near as I can make out they say somebody's jumped their claim or their camp, or something. Jim, supposin' you and your tin star saunter down and eject these jumpers." A very tall, quiet, slow moving man arose, aimed his tobacco juice at a small tree, drawled out the words, "All right, Jedge," and departed, trailed by a half dozen jabbering keskydees, to whom he paid not the slightest attention. "Now," said Semple, "we got a couple of Greasers yere caught stealin'. Buck Barry and Missouri Jones caught them at it, so there ain't much use hearin' witnesses as to the fact. Question is: what do we want to do with them?" "What did they steal?" demanded a voice. "They just nat'rally didn't steal _nothin'_," said a heavy built, square-jawed, clean-shaven man whom I guessed to be Buck Barry. "Not while I was around." "Yes," persisted the other, "but what was they after." "Oh, an extry pair of boots, and a shirt, and some tobacco, et cetery," replied Buck Barry contemptuously. "Let's see them," shouted several voices. After a moment's delay two ragged and furtive Mexicans were dragged before the assembly. A contemplative silence ensued. Then an elderly man with a square gray beard spoke up. "Well," said he deliberately, "airy man so low down and shif'less and miserable as to go to stealin' boots and shirts and tobacco in this camp is shore outside my corral. He sure must be a miserable person. Why'n hell didn't Buck and Missou give him a few lifts with the toes of their boots, and not come botherin' us with them?" Both Barry and Jones started to reply, but Semple cut them short. "They was going to do just that," he announced, "but I persuaded them to bring this matter up before this meetin' because we got to begin to take some measures to stop this kind of a nuisance. There's a lot of undesirables driftin' into this camp lately. You boys all recall how last fall we kep' our dust under our bunks or most anywhere, and felt perfectly safe about it; but that ain't now. A man has to carry his dust right with him. Now, if we can't leave our tents feeling our goods is safe, what do you expect to do about it? We got to throw the fear of God into the black hearts of these hounds." At this juncture Jim, the sheriff, returned and leaned nonchalantly against a tree, chewing a straw. Accepting the point of view advanced by the chair, the miners decided that the two thieves should be whipped and banished from camp. A strong feeling prevailed that any man who, in this age of plenty, would descend to petty thieving, was a poor, miserable creature to be pitied. Some charitably inclined individual actually took up a small collection which was presented to the thieves after they had received their punishment.