e general. The recalcitrants said that
Tombstone was being run by a gang of murderers in the interest of the
gamblers.

Opposition to the administration began to crystallize. Things reached
the point where in a twentieth century community reformers would be
preparing to circulate recall petitions. But in the early eighties
they did things more directly, and instead of the recall they had the
"show-down." The malcontents eagerly awaited its coming.

It came. And its origin was in Charleston.

Charleston was eleven miles across the hills from Tombstone down by
the San Pedro River. There was a mill there, and the cow-boys from the
country around came in to spend their money. Jim Burnett was justice
of the peace. Early in the town's history he had seceded from the
county of Pima because the supervisors over in Tucson refused to allow
him certain fees. "Hereafter," so he wrote the board, "the justice
court in Charleston will look after itself." Which it did. Once the
court dragged Jack Harker from his horse, when that enthusiastic
stockman was celebrating his arrival by bombarding the town, and fined
the prisoner fifty head of three-year-old steers. And once--it is a
matter of record--a coroner's jury under his instruction rendered the
verdict: "Served the Mexican right for getting in front of the gun."

Things always moved swiftly in Charleston. There is a tale of a
saloon-keeper who buried his wife in the morning, killed a man at high
noon, and took unto himself a new bride before evening. If that story
is not true--and old-timers vouch for it--it is at least indicative of
the trend of life in the town.

And to Charleston came those followers of John Ringo and Curly Bill
who did not get on with the Earps. Several of them became men of
influence down here on the San Pedro. Hither flocked those boisterous
spirits who craved more freedom of action on pay-day than the mining
town afforded.

Guns blazed in Charleston whenever the spirit moved. The young fellow
who was ditch-tender for the company had to give up his lantern when
he made his nightly trip of inspection, because, as surely as that
light showed up on the side hill, there was certain to be some one
down in the street who could not resist taking a shot at it. So while
dissatisfaction was crystallizing among the miners of Tombstone a keen
rancor against the Earps was developing over by the San Pedro.

This was the state of affairs when Johnny Behind the Deuce b