"Marshal," said the magistrate. "I don't know what my powers are in this matter, but it's evident that the less red tape there is the sooner these men will get the justice they rightly demand. I don't want them. Give me a receipt and engage what men you need for escort duty. You, Mr. Representative, give me your receipt for the cattle. Now clear out, and get to the States before you're interfered with by any lop-eared officials. Constable, hand over your prisoners.
"Mr. Dale and Mr. Smith, will you trust me as magistrate to make a fair division of this reward? All right. One-quarter goes to Dale, one-quarter to Smith, and the other half to be equally divided among you. Is that fair? All right, here's the plunder. Let's get the table in and dinner served. I'm famished."
So the court rose, and the dear old captain, having, I believe, broken every statute in British Columbia jurisprudence, asked all hands and the prisoners to dinner. "Of course," he said afterward to Jesse, "I ought to have committed you and Dale to trial for homicide, fined you all round for using guns without a license, turned the lawyers loose on a fat extradition case, and impounded the cattle to eat my grass at government expense. As it is, I'll be hanged, drawn, and quartered by the politicians, damned by the press, and jailed for thrashing editors. And I missed all the fun."
After dinner the crowd broke up into little groups. In one corner the American officials were bargaining with Mr. Dale for his Sky-line men to ride with the prisoners and the cattle. By the door stood Mr. Brooke, explaining something at great length to our bored constable. At the head of the long table Captain Taylor was telling me how difficult it was to find a suitable nursery governess for Wee James. At the foot of the table I saw the Mexican whispering to his unfortunate chief—plans for escape, no doubt. Then Jesse joined them, with a present of pipes, matches, and tobacco to ease their journey.
"Mr. Smith," said poor old O'Flynn, "this yere Sebastian Diaz has been with me these twelve year. He's only a greaser—"
"Medio Sangre, señor!" said the half-breed proudly.
"But he's got the heart of a white man. He's like a son to me."
"I'm proud," said Jesse, "to make your acquaintance, both of you. You are men, all right."
"We fought the rich men what had wronged us, them and their breed. We put up a good fight. Yes, sir! And we wouldn't have missed a mile of that twelve years' trail. It wasn't our way to insult women, Mr. Smith."
"You had to git that information somehow," said Jesse, "and Mrs. Smith forgives you."