“They tell me that law has been on the statute-books for fifteen or sixteen years, and that the penalty is from twenty-five to five hundred dollars fine. It's a case about which there can be no dispute, your Honour—the miners notified the superintendent that they desired my services, and when I presented myself at the tipple, I was refused access to the scales; then I was seized and shut up in jail, and finally turned out of the camp. I have made affidavit to these facts, and I think I have the right to ask for warrants for the guilty men.”
“Can you produce witnesses to your statements?”
“I can, your Honour. One of the committee of miners, John Edstrom, is now in Pedro, having been kept out of his home, which he had rented and paid for. The other, Mike Sikoria, was also thrown out of camp. There are many others at North Valley who know all about it.”
There was a pause. Judge Denton for the first time took a good look at the young miner at his side; and then he drew his brows together in solemn thought, and his voice became deep and impressive. “I shall take this matter under advisement. What is your name, and where do you live?”
“Joe Smith, your Honour. I'm staying at Edward MacKellar's, but I don't know how long I'll be able to stay there. There are company thugs watching the place all the time.”
“That's wild talk!” said the Judge, impatiently.
“As it happens,” said Hal, “we are being followed by three of them at this moment—one of them the same Pete Hanun who helped to drive me out of North Valley. If you will turn your head you will see them behind us.”
But the portly Judge did not turn his head.
“I have been informed,” Hal continued, “that I am taking my life in my hands by my present course of action. I believe I'm entitled to ask for protection.”
“What do you want me to do?”