Part 93 (2/2)

”Who?” But they turned their eyes on Mr. Bonsor, over by the door.

”Who wins?” repeated a Circle City man.

”The feller that's got the most friends.”

”It's so,” whispered Keith.

”----same at Circle,” returned the up-river man.

McGinty looked at him. Was this a possible adherent?

”You got a Push at Circle?” he inquired, but without genuine interest in the civil administration up the river. ”Why, 'fore this yere town was organised, when we hadn't got no Court of Arbitration to fix a boundary, or even to hang a thief, we had our 'main Push,' just like we was 'Frisco.” He lowered his voice, and leaned towards his Circle friend. ”With Bonsor's help they 'lected Corey Judge o' the P'lice Court, and Bonsor ain't never let Corey forgit it.”

”What about the other?” inquired a Bonsorite, ”the s.h.i.+fty Push that got you in for City Marshal?”

”What's the row on to-night?” inquired the Circle City man.

”Oh, Bonsor, over there, he lit out on a stampede 'bout Christmas, and while he was gone a feller by the name o' Lawrence quit the game.

Fanned out one night at the Gold Nugget. I seen for days he was wantin'

to be a angil, and I kep' a eye on 'im. Well, when he went to the boneyard, course it was my business, bein' City Marshal, to take possession of his property fur his heirs!”

There was unseemly laughter behind the stove-pipe.

”Among his deeds and traps,” McGinty went on, unheeding, ”there was fifteen hundred dollars in money. Well, sir, when Bonsor gits back he decides he'd like to be the custodian o' that cash. Mentions his idee to me. I jest natchrally tell him to go to h.e.l.l. No, sir, he goes to Corey over there, and gits an order o' the Court makin' Bonsor administrator o' the estate o' James Lawrence o' Noo Orleens, lately deceased. Then Bonsor comes to me, shows me the order, and demands that fifteen hundred.”

”Didn't he tell you you could keep all the rest o' Lawrence's stuff?”

asked the Bonsorite.

McGinty disdained to answer this thrust.

”But I knows my dooty as City Marshal, and I says, 'No,' and Bonsor says, says he, 'If you can't git the idee o' that fifteen hundred dollars out o' your head, I'll git it out fur ye with a bullet,' an' he draws on me.”

”An' McGinty weakens,” laughed the mocker behind the stove-pipe.

”Bonsor jest pockets the pore dead man's cash,” says McGinty, with righteous indignation, ”and I've called this yer meetin' t' arbitrate the matter.”

”Minook doesn't mind arbitrating,” says Keith low to the Colonel, ”but there isn't a man in camp that would give five cents for the interest of the heirs of Lawrence in that fifteen hundred dollars.”

A hammering on the clerk's little table announced that it was seven p.m.

The Court then called for the complaint filed by McGinty v. Bonsor, the first case on the docket. The clerk had just risen when the door was flung open, and hatless, coatless, face aflame, Maudie stood among the miners.

”Boys!” said she, on the top of a scream, ”I been robbed.”

”Hey?”

<script>