We had been here some fifteen minutes, when we saw the marshal coming down the road leading to the station, the bright star of his authority being seen distinctly on his breast. "Now," said Brum, "let me be the spokesman, and I will arrange for a month's comfort." By this time the marshal stood before us. "Boys," he began, "cold weather for travelling, eh?" "We don't feel the cold," was Brum's reply. "You will though," said the marshal, "this is but the beginning, and there is a long and severe winter before you, without a break. You would certainly be better off in jail. Sixty days in our jail, which is considered one of the best, if not the best, in Michigan, would do you no harm, I assure you." "As for that," said Brum, "we might take thirty days each, providing of course, that you made it worth while. What about tobacco and a drink or two of whiskey?" "That'll be all right," said the marshal, "here's half a dollar for a drink, and the sheriff will supply your tobacco." "No, no," objected Brum, "give us a dollar and three cakes of tobacco, and we will take thirty days, and remember, not a day over." The marshal produced the three cakes of tobacco, seeming to be well prepared for these demands, and giving us a paper dollar, requested us to go to Donovan's saloon, which we would find in the main street, where he would see us later in the day; "when of course," he added, winking, "you will be supposed to be just a bit merry." "What is the meaning of all this?" I asked Brum, as we went our way to Mr. Donovan's saloon. "It simply means this," he said, "that the marshal gets a dollar each for every arrest he makes--in our case three dollars; the judge receives three or four dollars for every conviction, and the sheriff of the jail is paid a dollar a day for boarding each prisoner under his charge; we benefit by a good rest, warmth, good food and plenty of sleep, and the innocent citizens have to pay for it all."