"Also, and moreover, they appoint politicians. We will not pursue this painful subject further except to add that, New Mexico being what and where it is, these appointees, while they might be first-class men and seldom were--they were always tenth-rate politicians. Because politicians rated higher than tenth-rate demanded something better. Yes. When Grover was in, they all came from Missouri, and they wasn't so bad but what they might have been worse, with proper care. And now they're all from darkest Injianny; a doubtful state. Something else, too. Even when they was well-meaning--which often was guessable--why, they're not our people. We have our little ways and they have their own little ways, and they're not the same little ways; and they rule us by their little ways. That's bad. To judge a man by the standards of another time and place is prejudging, and that means oppression, and oppression breeds riots in hell. That is how most trouble starts, I reckon--not understanding, prejudging. Men don't naturally like to press down. They'd a heap rather comfort and help--if they could just see the way clear. Helping someone out of a tight is just about the pleasantest thing a man can do. But these people Uncle Sam sends here to manage us, they don't think our thoughts and they don't speak our tongue. They ask for brick and we bring them mortar; they ask for bread and we rock 'em to sleep. That's the way I look at it. Won't you coincide with me?" "Why, yes," said Johnny, "now that you mention it--I don't care if I do." The jailer eyed his captive with painful distrust. Then he sighed heavily. "Flippant and inattentive! A bad mark. Nine more demerits and you'll be suspended." He rose and went to a closet and returned with a bottle and glasses. "A long drop and a quick finish!" "Wishing you the same!" said Johnny Dines. The glasses clinked together. "So you be advised and don't waive examination," resumed Gwinne. "Wade will want you to do that. Don't you listen to Wade. You make your fight to-morrow. Old Andy Hinkle, the J. P., he's a homespun. When he hits a drill he hits her with all his carcass, from the ground up, and when he goes a-judging, justice is what he wants. His habit and disposition is real earnest and he mostly brings back what he goes after. You could rake all hell with a fine-tooth comb and not find a worse man to try you--if you killed Adam Forbes. If you did kill him you're goin' to lose your shadow soon--and there's your fortune told, right now." "It is my thinking that I will make old bones yet, and tell tales in the chimney corner. Now you sit back and smoke while I wash up," said Johnny, gathering up the dishes. "I gotta ingratiate myself with you, you know. Go on, now--tell us some more. And how about me having a confidential with my friends?"