Part 31 (1/2)

else'll catch. Besides, we been needing a new calaboose for a long time. You done us a better turn than you think, Marie.”

”If you say I set the jail afire, Mike Flynn,” cried Marie, ”Yo're a liar by the clock.”

”You set it afire,” said the sheriff, sternly. ”You'll find it a serious business setting a jail afire.”

”Prove I done it, then!” squalled Marie. ”Prove it, you slab-sided hunk! Yah, you can't prove it, and you know it!”

To this the sheriff made no reply.

”We gotta put her somewhere till the Judge gets sober,” he said, hurriedly. ”Guess we'll put her in yore back room, Mike.”

”Guess you won't,” countered Mike. ”They ain't any insurance on my place, and I ain't taking no chances, not a chance.”

”There's the hotel,” suggested Kansas Casey.

”You don't use my hotel for no calaboose,” squawked Bill Lainey.

”Nawsir. Not much. You put her in yore own house, Jake. Then if she sets you afire, it's your own fault. Yeah.”

Jake Rule scratched his head. It was patent that he did not quite know what to do. Came then Dolan, the local justice of the peace. Dolan's hair was plastered well over his ears and forehead. Dolan was pale yellow of countenance and breathed strongly through his nose. He looked not a little sick. He pawed a way through the crowd and cast a bilious glance at Marie.

He inquired of Jake Rule as to the trouble and its cause. On being told he convened court on the spot. Judge Dolan agreed with Mike Flynn that the burning of the jail was a trivial matter requiring no official attention. For was not Dolan's brother-in-law a carpenter and would undoubtedly be given the contract for a new jail. Quite so.

”You can't prove anything about this jail-burning,” he told Jake Rule and the a.s.sembled mult.i.tude, ”but this a.s.sault on Jack Harpe is a cat with another tail. It was a lawless act and hadn't oughta happened.

Marie, yo're a citizen of Farewell, and you'd oughta take an interest in the community instead of surging out and trying to ma.s.sacre a visitor in our midst, a visitor who's figuring on settlin' hereabouts, I understand. Gawd knows we need all the inhabitants we can get, and it's just such tricks as yores, Marie, that discourages immigration.”

Here Judge Dolan frowned upon Marie and thumped the palm of his hand with a bony fist. Marie stood first on one leg and then on the other and hung her head down. Since her raving outburst at the time of her arrest she had cooled considerably. It was evident that she was now trying to make the best of a bad business.

”Marie,” resumed Judge Dolan, and cleared his throat importantly, ”why did you shoot at Mr. Jack Harpe?”

”He insulted me,” Marie replied without a quiver.

”I ain't ever said a word to her,” countered Jack Harpe. ”I don't even know the girl.”

The judge turned back to Marie. ”Have you any witnesses to this insult?” he queried.

”Nary a witness.” Marie shook her brown head.

”Y' oughta have a witness. She's yore word against his. Where did this insult take place?”

”At my shack. He come there early this mornin'.”

”That's a lie!” boomed Jack Harpe.

”Which will be about all from you!” snapped Judge Dolan, vigorously pounding his palm.

”What did he say to you?” was the judge's next question.

”I'd rather not tell,” hedged Marie.

”Well, of course, you don't have to answer,” said the judge, gallantly. ”But alla same, Marie, you hadn't oughta used a gun on him.

It--it ain't ladylike. Nawsir. Don't you do it again or I'll send you to Piegan City. Ten dollars or ten days.”