Part 17 (1/2)

Of course they all promised, and after leaving their friend to the tender mercies of the hotel clerk, hastened back to their Alma Mater.

They were just in time for dinner, but in their excitement and hurry to get back to the hotel ate less than usual. In reply to Reddy's query as to ”what was up,” they told him of Mr. Melton's arrival. Reddy had heard of the Mexican adventure and spoke accordingly. ”He must be a good man to know,” he opined, ”and I'd like to meet him. Go ahead an' make your call now, but don't get back late. I guess, from what I hear of this Melton that he'll see that you leave in time anyway.”

”No, he's not the kind to persuade people to forget their obligations,”

said d.i.c.k. ”In fact, he's just the opposite. But of course our own well-known principles would make it impossible for us to be late,” with a grin.

”Yes, I know all about that sort of stuff,” said Reddy. ”See if for once you can live up to your own 'rep.'”

”All you got to do is keep your eyes peeled, and you'll see us piking in here right on the dot,” laughed Tom. ”Come on, fellows. The sooner we get started the sooner we'll get back.”

”Right you are,” agreed Bert, and the three comrades swung into a brisk stride. A twenty-minute walk brought them to the ”Royal,” and they were immediately ushered up to Mr. Melton's room. In answer to their knock a hearty voice bade them ”come in,” and as they opened the door Mr. Melton met them with outstretched hand.

”Come in and make yourselves at home,” he said genially. ”If you want anything and don't see it, ask for it.”

”You seem to be pretty well fixed with about everything that anybody could want, now,” commented Bert, glancing about the luxuriously appointed room. ”This place certainly looks as though it had had some thought and money expended on it.”

”Yes,” admitted the Westerner, ”it reminds me of the so-called 'hotels'

we used to have out West in the early days--it's so different. The height of luxury there was in having a room all to yourself. As a rule you had to bunk in with at least two or three others. O yes, this is quite an improvement on one of those old shacks. I remember one of the pioneer towns where there was a fierce rivalry between the proprietors of the only two hotels in town. They were each trying to get the better of the other by adding some improvement, real or fancied. First the owner of the 'Palace' had his shack painted a vivid white and green.

Then the owner of the 'Lone Star' hostelry, not to be outdone, had his place painted also, and had a couple of extra windows cut in the wall.

So it went, and if they had kept it up long enough, probably in the end people stopping at one of the places would have been fairly comfortable.

But before matters reached that unbelievable pitch, O'Day, owner of the 'Palace,' was killed in a shooting fracas. The man who plugged him claimed he was playing 'crooked' poker, and I think that in all probability he was. If he wasn't, it was about the only time in his life that he ever played straight.”

”What happened to the man who did the shooting?” asked Bert.

”Well, O'Day wasn't what you'd call a very popular character,” replied Mr. Melton, ”and n.o.body felt very much cut up over his sudden exit from this vale of tears. They got up an impromptu jury, but the twelve 'good men and true' failed to find the defendant guilty.”

”But how did they get around it?” asked Tom. ”There was no doubt about who did the killing, was there?”

”Not the least in the world,” replied Mr. Melton with a laugh; ”but as I say, popular sentiment was with the man who did the shooting, so the jury turned in a verdict that ran something in this fas.h.i.+on, if I remember rightly: 'We find that the deceased met death while inadvisably attempting to stop a revolver bullet in motion' or words to that effect. I thought at the time it was a masterpiece of legal fiction.”

”I should say it was,” commented d.i.c.k. ”The quibbles and technicalities that make our laws a good deal of a joke to-day have nothing much on that.”

”That's a fact,” agreed Mr. Melton; ”some of the results of our modern 'justice,' so called, are certainly laughable. It's all very well to give a man every chance and the benefit of every doubt, but when a conviction is set aside because the court clerk was an hour behind time getting to court on the day of the trial, it begins to look as though things were being carried too far. Mere technicalities and lawyers'

quibbles should not have the weight with judges that for some reason they seem to possess.”

”I've no doubt,” remarked Bert, ”that some of the rough and ready courts such as you were just telling us about meted out a pretty fair brand of justice at that.”

”Yes, they did,” replied Mr. Melton. ”They got right down to the core of the argument, and cut out all confusing side issues. If, for instance, three witnesses all swore they saw a man steal a horse, and yet were unable to agree on the exact time of the stealing, the chances were ten to one that the horse thief would be strung up without further loss of time. And there was no appeal from the findings of a frontier jury.”

”It must have been an exciting life, that of the old frontier days,”

commented Bert. ”I guess n.o.body had to complain much of the monotony of it.”

”Not so you could notice,” replied Mr. Melton with a smile, ”but there wasn't half as much shooting going on all the time as you might believe from reading the current stories in the magazines dealing with the 'wild and woolly West.' Most everybody carried a gun, of course, but they weren't used so very often. Every man knew that his neighbor was probably an expert in the use of his 'shooting irons,' too, so there wasn't much percentage in starting an argument. Most of the sc.r.a.ps that did occur would never have been started, if it hadn't been for the influence of 'red-eye,' as the boys used to call the vile brands of whiskey served out in the frontier saloons. That whiskey bit like vitriol, and a few gla.s.ses of it were enough to make any man take to the war path.”

”I suppose you carried a gun in those days, too, didn't you, Mr.

Melton?” questioned d.i.c.k.