"——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."