He don’t say a word.
“Don’t talk,” advises Chuck. “Yuh might wear out your teeth.”
The feller looks at us, foolish-like, so we hoists him up on Chuck’s bronc, and Chuck rides behind him. Once he opened his mouth and spoke one line:
“You fellers are an hour late.”
That’s all he said. I reckon Chuck hit him pretty hard.
We pilgrims right into Paradise, and up to Pelly’s saloon. There ain’t a soul in sight, but we observes signs of life down where we holds our court. We takes our captive down there, cuts the ropes off his legs and takes him inside.
The place is crowded and Telescope is on the stand. We gets in just in time to hear the judge ask Telescope if he can think of any earthly reason why he shouldn’t be held for the next term of court.
“A lot of reason, Judge!” yells Chuck, pushing our prisoner up to the front. “Here’s the main reason. Gents, I makes yuh used to Slippery Silverton!”
“Silverton ——!” I hears McGuire yelp.
“That’s the owner of the Golden Cross mine, Mister Warde,” And then he horns his way over to our prisoner and snorts—“What does this all mean?”