But Hal was not to be disposed of in that easy fashion. There was a side door to the court-room, with a corridor beyond it, and while he stood arguing with the clerk he saw the rubicund visage of the Judge flit past.
He darted in pursuit. He did not shout or make a disturbance; but when he was close behind his victim, he said, quietly, “Judge Denton, I appeal to you for justice!”
The Judge turned and looked at him, his countenance showing annoyance. “What do you want?”
It was a ticklish moment, for Pete Hanun was at Hal's heels, and it would have needed no more than a nod from the Judge to cause him to collar Hal. But the Judge, taken by surprise, permitted himself to parley with the young miner; and the detective hesitated, and finally fell back a step or two.
Hal repeated his appeal. “Your Honour, there are a hundred and seven men and boys now dying up at the North Valley mine. They are being murdered, and I am trying to save their lives!”
“Young man,” said the Judge, “I have an urgent engagement down the street.”
“Very well,” replied Hal, “I will walk with you and tell you as you go.” Nor did he give “His Honour” a chance to say whether this arrangement was pleasing to him; he set out by his side, with Pete Hanun and the other two men some ten yards in the rear.
Hal told the story as he had told it to Mr. Richard Parker; and he received the same response. Such matters were not easy to decide about; they were hardly a Judge's business. There was a state official on the ground, and it was for him to decide if there was violation of law.
Hal repeated his statement that a man who made a complaint to this official had been thrown out of camp. “And I was thrown out also, your Honour.”
“What for?”