Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 303 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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a se ‘be here, to-night; if only to show you that Mr. Levy was mistaken, when he said that I was afraid to face the people of this town, Iam here on this platform, and I have come here to stay, till the people of Satanstown tell me to get off. You have just heard this gentleman say he knew the reason [I was not here to-night, to answer him. Hetold you I was run owt, with ‘the rest of the cowboys, and had not the sand to come back. Well, now, in the first place, as the gentleman has made one mistake, he is very apt to make more. I do not mean to ac- cuse him of any deliberate falsehood, for I think he believed what he said at the time he said it. Hehad no idea that I was listening. Now, you see, I have come back, and the only question that remains is this: Why did I come back? ll tell you why, gentlemen. There was a foolish, causeless quarrel, in this town, to-night, in which several men of your town were hurt, and which ought never to have oc- curred. It all came of a drunken man and his friends, and it was skillfully used, by persons ‘who are trying to steal your property from ou. This gentleman, beside me, as you ‘all now, is the paid attorney for the great cor- poration that is now trying to take a bundred thousand dollars of taxes out of your pockets, to pay for the fences that were cut by an indig- ‘nant people, when forbearance had ceased to be a virtue. The man that runs that company, here, came down to make the fight, and tried to “persuade you that the men of the Glasgow Cat- tle Company were your friends. He ordered them out of the fight. Well, if you had left the other men alone, they would have drawn out too; but the fight went on, and we ranchers had to keep our end of the plank up; hadn’t we? Of course, It is not a Texan who would grum- ble at a man for helping bis friends in trouble. We did so and you ended in driving us out of the town. That was your victory, and I am ‘the last person in the wérld to deny it. But I want tosay one thing more to you, and then I ‘shall have done. If you think that this gentle- ‘man is the best man to represent you in the legislature, I am perfectly satisfied, if I am beaten fairly on election day; but, before you ‘vote for him, see that he withdraws the suit he has begun against the county of Satanta to make you—you, cin tom M for the fences that were cut, months ago. ey are charged in the ‘bill, at three hundred thousand dollars, and yeu can think whether you would like to elect the lawyer who is planning that raid on your , nlite to represent you in the legislature, As or me, I have the honor to wish you a very -good-evening.” And so saying he strode off the platform; put ‘his foot on the saddle, and slid down to his seat again, before Levy bad had time to say a word in answer. But as he rode away, noone cheered him, and Hank, the Nailer, observed to him: ** Guess ye didn’t make much, that time,” CHAPTER V. A MODEL JUSTICE. ““Jose Concna, Justice of the Peace” was ‘the sign painted on a tin shingle, and displayed -On the window of a house on in street, _ Judge Concha was a relic of the Mexican days in Texas, as his name and face indicated, for he was of the bastard, half-breed blood that pre- vails overso large a portion of Spanish America, and is likely to be the bane of the southwestern States of the Union. Jose Concha was fat and dark, with twinkling eyes that had been very handsome in the days of his youth, when he had been slender, and had ‘seen the coming of the Malditos Yanquis, who had since stolen the State. He was a small boy at the time of the battlas ‘of the Goliad, Alamo and San Jacinto, but he had learned to bate the “‘ Yanquis” already, and be hated them just as badly, now, when he was aman of sixty, as he had at twelve, though he saw no means of ridding the country of their domination. But to hear him talk when there were none but Anglo-Saxons round, no one would have thought but what he was the greatest lover of the race to be found in the United States. He was always polite, and he had a soft voice and caressing manner which had gained him pularity and landed him in the chair of Justice and the receipt of an income of about ‘five hundred dollars a year from the office, be- ‘Sides what he had of his own. Yet Judge Concha could be very severe ‘and me $s on occasion, when he wished to inspire terror, and he had sent up many a cowboy, after be had been captured and iron- ed; for there isno man so harsh as one who is naturally timid, when be gets a chance to exer- cise severity, with no° fear of the consequences. The judge was in bis house that night; for he ‘had a natural aversion to the sprees which the ‘Satanstown people affected as their delight, and kept away from them, when he could. ; He heard the shouting in the streets, and said so his wife, who came of the same race: ‘*Carmelita, my angel, they are at their old -calaboose, you say, and has been hurt. a <8 ee tricks. I shall have to fine many, in the morn- ing.’ The judge was fond of fining, for the double reason that the victims generally paid and that the town jail was unfit for the incarceration of many prisoners. Out in Satanta county, the accounts of the justices were nct inspected with the severity with which Northern town auditors scan the monetary transactions of their officials, and the general opinion was that, if a man had an office, he would be a fool not to make all he could out of it. The fines went into the pocket of the justice, and if her minister profited by them, that was his affair, and no one cared to meddle with it. And, just as the judge said to his wife that *“he would have to fine some one in the morn- ing,” a ring came at the bell, and he added: * That is oneofthem. You willsee.” He went to open the door, and found the city marshal outside, accompanied by a tall gentle- man, in the dress of a rancher, who was also a dandy, for he sported Mexican velvets, and had huge jingling spurs that adorn the heels of vaquero and cowboy alike, he marshal saluted the justice respectfully, and introduced his companion as *‘ Mr, Field.” The judge invited them to walk in, and, as soon as they were in the little parlor, said to the tall stranger: “Excuse-a me, senor, bote I baf seen you, I t?ink,; before,” Field bowed. * You have, sir. I am the man that was tried for killing Tomlinson in self defense.’’* Concha smiled. ** Ah, yes, sare, [remembare. It wasa ve nice case, and you did beat Levy very well. Are you in trouble again? I hope-a not,” Field smiled. ‘** No, not this time, though there’s no telling what may bappen. I have come to bail outa poor fellow who got into a fight in town, to- night, and is in the calaboose, I understand. He was at Baldy Mac’s and they laid him out withaclub. He is to be brongtit tefore you in the morning, and I want to bail |.im out so that he may go home. I[ will te answerable for his appearance at court. He has been on a great spree, and they are apprehensive that he may be attacked with delirium tremens if he stays i. calaboose all night. What bail do you ask?’ Concha listened without interrupting till the other had finished, when he rubbed his hands and said, in bis smooth, oily tones: ‘Dat is a serious affair. De man is in a ” most bea bad man. I should vant to hear more of de case before I take de bail.” Tom Field drew his brows together, while Hank the Nailer discharged his face of all ex- pression, and looked out of the window, tang came close to the justice, and whis- red: “Come, I know what you want. Tell me what, and you shall have if.” The judge cast a quick glance at the marshal, and answered in the same tone: ‘* De fine is ten dollair, Dat most be certain-a, and de man can go. He vill be here in de ree you say—you vill be responsible for at?’ “Certainly not, if I pay the fine in advance,” said Field, quietly. ‘You are not certain if be has committed any offense. I understand that it was a case where he struck no blow, but was struck down without an rtunity to defend bimself. The marshal aca the story.” The judge’s eyes twinkled as he said: “* Dat is different case, But, if he is not dere in de morning, and de prosecuting officer is, vat den? De marshal is seupcbeitab for his escape. If you vant him to go home, and baf no more trouble, it vill be tventy dolluir.” Tom Field put his hand in his pocket, and took out a roll of bills, at which the eyes of the justice glittered like dark diamonds, | He could hardly refrain from putting out bis band at once, but Field took two ten-dollar bills from his bundle, and offered them to the judge, with the remark: “Then we are assured that there will be no more trouble, if this is paid?” The justice made no answer till he had got the money safe in his clutches, when he answer- ed with the utmost cordiality: “My dear sare, ven Jose Concha say dat de rosecution vill not appear, de vorst is ovair. ou vill take glass wine?” “No, thank you, judge,” said the rancher, rising, with an expression of some contempt on his handsome face. ‘‘I bave business at the Pee Will you give the order to the mar- sba The judge wpe went to his desk, and took out an order of discharge, which he filled out and gave to Hank the Nailer, who had waited, with imperturbable calmness, all the time. Then the two men left the room, and Hank remarked, as be got outside: _ “Them Greaser jedges ain't like the roel ones, * See “* Old -Eye, the Mav - ter,” in Dime Library No eos “ jis rane ee Top Notch Tom, the Cowboy Outlaw. ——_ = en 5 Mr. Field. But it’s all right, I s’pose. The order’s my authority. Let’s go to the calaboose, and let the pore feller aout.” They proceeded there, and found the unfortun- ate Bill, as they had feared, in a dark room, all by bimself, and in a terrible state of mind; for when they opened the door, he uttered a wild ell, and rushed to Hank, the Nailer, whose nees he embraced with great fervor, shrieking: ‘Take ’em away! Take ’em away, Hank! Ob, my good jumpin’ Geeroosalem! The room’s full of ’em, thar a-crawlin’ all over a man,” He was ashy pale, trembling like a leaf, with a wild glare in his eyes tbat toid the story of his disease better than description. Sandy Bill bad “the jim-jams ” badly, and they bad to get him - in the moonlight, before he got at all reason- able, The sight of Hank, the Nailer, and Top Notch Tom, whom he knew well, and trusted in his lucid moments, had a good effect in calming the poor wretch; and, assoon ashe saw bis horse, which they had: brought to the cal e, he tottered toward it'and tried to mount, when he almost fell to the ground from weakness, and a = of the blow he bad received on the Then he started back, shuddering violently, and muttering: ** My God, thar all over the hoss; too!” Tom Field came to him, with Hank, the Nail- er; and spoke to him sharply: ‘“Come, get on the horse quickly, ard come with us. We won’t let them burt you, Bill. The boys are all waiting for us at home, and, the sooner we get there, the better it will be for us. The poor wretch seemed to be calmed by their Voices, and tried to climb into his saddle dons when Tom hel bim in, and kept bis h on the leg of the demented cowboy, saying: **Now look bere, Bill. Icame to take you out of the calaboose, and I am going home with you. You bave been drinking too much; that’s all. Here, before you start, take this.” . He pulled, from the pocket of his velvet jack- et, a little flask, and gave the poor fellow a few spoonfuls of diluted bromide of potassium, the effect of which enabled Bill to ride home with bis friend, who had been bred a pbysician. Hank, the Nailer, rode with them out of the town, and when they were outside, he observed to Field, as be took his leave: ‘Pll do what I kin with the boys. Mr Field; and ye kin be sure I won’t let that Jew felier be ‘lacted ‘ithout a good fight. The boys is on your side, as far as the shootin’ is concerned, or they wouldn't bev listened to re as they did, to-night: but ye didn’t do yerself much good by lettin’ on, they’d whipped the ranch crowd. They'll git to thinkin’ they kin, arter awhile, ye know; and that ain’t a good thingin Texas. Ye’ve got to keep yer own eend up byar, sir.” Then the Marshal of Satanstown rode off, and Tom Field and his companion took their vey at a gallop across the prairie, toward the Col- _ lingsworth Ranch, passing Punch Burleson’s on — As tbey neared tbe latter place, they found one of the cowboys on t; and to him Tom gave the repentant Bill in charge, with strict injunctions not to leave him alone, any more than possible; for “‘the jim-jams” might re- turn, Bill, on his part, was so impressed with the necessity of keeping com any, that he offered to stay out on post all night, if his friend would not object, and Tom rode away, leaving the pair together. The cowboys of the ranchers had been com- pelled to rede their renches at night, ever since the first cutting of the fences: for the — comapeny men never let slip an opportunity of setting up some of their barbed < a na- tions in the night, and the ranchers knew the old adage about ‘ possession’ being nine points - of the law.” Tom Field took his way toward his own home with a much lighter heart than when he he gone to town; and, as he came near the house, saw that there were lights in the windows, while the sound of a piano, coming over the prairie, produced a very pleasant effect in the soft autumn night. The young man smiled to himself, and his face lighted up; for he was a young husband, who had made what very few men in this world get a chance to make, match, a aaa niscond e listened as he rode on, and presently heard the voice of a woman singing, very sweetly, the old song that once made so many hearts yearn with tenderness: ‘* Maryland, my Maryland!” Then he galloped rapidly up to the bouse, across the smooth lawn, and a female figure white came flitting out to meet him, crying: hen Eiteee you sent word that you were not to home to-night. Iam so ou.’ It was the figure of his wife, and he knew it in a moment, for Diana Fie!d was just as pretty as Diana Collingswortb bad ever been. clasped As the young man dismounted and “ How did you know it was i Div : py love- her in his arms, he asked fond] a ha fore they have experienced any dis- fe oe es com - .. i Pio. ‘ , . : ' , ‘ 3 i ' B e~ , ‘ @@ *, % U a a” : . « ¢ a” j , f : . ¥ . . 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