Part 10 (1/2)
8
Denver Jim was already heartily in the spirit of the thing.
”Sit down on that black rock, Jig,” he said, taking Gaspar to the designated stone as he spoke, and removing the noose from the latter's neck. ”Black is a sign you're going to swing in the end. Jest a triflin' postponement, that's all.”
Riley placated the judge with his first appointment. ”Judge Lodge,” he said, ”you know a pile about these here things. I appoint you clerk.
It's your duty to take out that little notebook you got in your vest pocket and write down a note for the important things that's said.
Savvy?”
”Right,” replied Lodge, entirely won over, and he settled himself on the gra.s.s, with the notebook on his knee and a stub of a pencil poised over it.
”La.r.s.en, you're sergeant-at-arms.”
”How d'you mean that, Sinclair?”
”That's what they call them that keeps order; I disremember where I heard it. La.r.s.en, if anybody starts raising a rumpus, it's up to you to shut 'em up.”
”I'll sure do it,” declared La.r.s.en. ”You can sure leave that to me, judge.” He hoisted his gun belt around so that the gun b.u.t.t hung more forward and readier to his hand.
”Denver, you're the jailer. You see the prisoner don't get away. Keep an eye on him, you see?”
”Easy, judge,” replied Denver. ”I can do it with one hand.”
”Montana, you keep the door.”
”What d'you mean--door, judge?”
”Ain't you got no imagination whatever?” demanded Sinclair. ”You keep the door. When I holler for a witness you go and get 'em. And Sandersen, you're the hangman. Take charge of that rope!”
”That ain't such an agreeable job, your honor.”
”Neither is mine. Go ahead.”
Sandersen, glowering, gathered up the rope and draped it over his arm.
”Buck Mason, you're the jury. Sit down over there on your bench, will you? This here court being kind of shorthanded, you got to do twelve men's work. If it's too much for you, the rest of us will help out.”
”Your honor,” declared Buck, much impressed, ”I'll sure do my best.”
”The jury's job,” explained Sandersen, ”is to listen to everything and not say nothing, but think all the time. You'll do your talking in one little bunch when you say guilty or not guilty. Now we're ready to start. Gaspar, stand up!”
Denver Jim officiously dragged the schoolteacher to his feet.
”What's your name?”
”Name?” asked the bewildered Gaspar. ”Why, everybody knows my name!”
”Don't make any difference,” announced Sinclair. ”This is going to be a strictly regular hanging with no frills left marabout's your name?”