“The government needs all the witnesses it can get,” said the man from Tucson. “Luke Jenks is smart in some ways.”
“Luke Jenks?” I sat up in my canvas extension-chair.
“Territorial Delegate; firm of Parley and Jenks, Tucson. He’s in it.”
“By heavens!” I cried, in unmixed delight. “But I didn’t see him when they were shooting at us.”
The man from Tucson stared at me curiously. “He is counsel for the prisoners,” he explained.
“The Delegate to Washington defends these thieves who robbed the United States?” I repeated.
“Says he’ll get them off. He’s going to stay home from Washington and put it through in shape.”
It was here that my powers of astonishment went into their last decline, and I withheld my opinion upon the character of Mr. Jenks as a public man. I settled comfortably in my canvas chair.
“The prisoners are citizens of small means, I judge,” said I. “What fee can they pay for such a service?”