The Magnetic North Part 93

"But McGinty spends all his time at the Gold Nugget."

"Well, where would he spend it?"

"A Miners' Meetin's a pretty poor machine," McGinty was saying to the ex-Governor, "but it's the best we got."

"----in a country bigger than several of the nations of Europe put together," responded that gentleman, with much public spirit.

"A Great Country!"

"Right!"

"You bet!"

"----a country that's paid for its purchase over and over again, even before we discovered gold here."

"Did she? Good old 'laska."

"----and the worst treated part o' the Union."

"That's so."

"After this, when I read about Russian corruption and Chinese cruelty, I'll remember the way Uncle Sam treats the natives up----"

"----and us, b'gosh! White men that are openin' up this great, rich country fur Uncle Sam----"

"----with no proper courts--no Government protection--no help--no justice--no nothin'."

"Yer forgittin' them reindeer!" And the court-room rang with derisive laughter.

"Congress started that there Relief Expedition all right," the josher went on, "only them blamed reindeer had got the feed habit, and when they'd et up everything in sight they set down on the Dalton Trail--and there they're settin' yit, just like they was Congress. But I don't like to hear no feller talkin' agin' the Gover'ment."

"Yes, it's all very funny," said McGinty gloomily, "but think o' the fix a feller's in wot's had a wrong done him in the fall, and knows justice is thousands o' miles away, and he can't even go after her for eight months; and in them eight months the feller wot robbed him has et up the money, or worked out the claim, and gone dead-broke."

"No, sir! we don't wait, and we don't go trav'lin'. We stay at home and call a meetin'."

The door opened, and Bonsor and the bar-tender, with great difficulty, forced their way in. They stood flattened against the wall. During the diversion McGinty was growling disdainfully, "Rubbidge!"

"Rubbidge? Reckon it's pretty serious rubbidge."

"Did you ever know a Miners' Meetin' to make a decision that didn't become law, with the whole community ready to enforce it if necessary?

Rubbidge!

"Oh, we'll hang a man if we don't like his looks," grumbled McGinty; but he was overborne. There were a dozen ready to uphold the majesty of the Miners' Meetin'.

"No, sir! No funny business about our law! This tribunal's final."

"I ain't disputin' that it's final. I ain't talkin' about law. I was mentionin' Justice."

"The feller that loses is always ga.s.sin' 'bout Justice. When you win you don't think there's any flies on the Justice."

"Ain't had much experience with winnin'. We all knows who wins in these yere Meetin's."

"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 shifty 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?"