"Fuzzy!" thundered the yegg sheriff, laying a heavy hand upon Pecos's shoulder, "I arrest youse in the name of the law!"
"The hell you say!" exclaimed Pecos, backing off; and in an instant the hardened jail-birds knew that they had a "gay-cat." Only Rubes and gay-cats resisted arrest in jail—the old-timers stepped up promptly, before the sheriff could "give them the roust" from behind.
"Yes, an' fer breakin' into jail!" hollered Slattery. "Come on now and don't make me any trouble or I'll cop youse in the mush!"
"Arraign the prisoner," shouted the alcalde pompously, "bring 'im up hyar, an' ef he's half as bad as he looks he'll git the holy limit. Wake up thar, you, an' he'p the sheriff, or I'll set you to scrubbin' floors."
They came in a struggling mass, dominated by the tall form of the sheriff, and before Pecos was aware of his destiny he was hustled before the judge.
"What is the charge against this mug?" inquired Pete Monat, slapping his strap across his knee for silence.
"Breakin' inter jail, Yer Honor!" responded the sheriff, bowing and touching his forelock.
"Prisoner at the bar," declaimed the alcalde, "you are charged with wilfully, feloniously, an' unlawfully breakin' inter this hyar jail—do you plead 'Guilty' or 'Not guilty'?"
"I don't plead," said Pecos, with suspicious quiet.
"'Don't plead' is the same as 'Not guilty,'" announced the judge, "and bein' as the district attorney is such a long-winded yap I'll jest pull off this examination myse'f. How come you're hyar, then, you low-browed reperbate, ef you didn't break inter jail? Answer me thet, now, an' be dam' careful to say 'Yer Honor' or I'll soak you for contempt of court!"