“I was named,” says Artie, “after a family scrap. Can’t you suppress it? Artemus G. ought to identify me.”
Frenchy told a terrible tale of wanton robbery. [Page 57]
“I—I thought it might spell easier,” says Billy.
After supper we walks over and gets the warrant. Billy arrests Artie and disarms him. “You know your business—I’ll make any kind of bet on that,” says Billy; “but in your place I should have been far away on a bounding bronco.”
We went to be tried before Judge Eliot. Frenchy kept a jack-leg lawyer named Satterlee, and he was helping persecute.
“Have you legal advice, prisoner?” says his Honor.
“A little,” says Artie softly.
“Proceed. Call the plaintiff.”
Frenchy took the stand and told a terrible tale of wanton robbery and brutal, unprovoked violence. He had won an election bet from prisoner, and prisoner had taken the money by force. He showed his wounds. He shore looked like he’d been playing goat with a buzz-saw.