ake matters more serious,
Baldwin had rounded up his cowboys and brought them along with him, in
order to make any resistance impossible.

I made no objection to the sheriff serving the paper, though it nearly
broke my heart to see Madge's face. To cheer her I said, suggestively,
"They've got me, but they haven't got the letters, Miss Cullen. And,
remember, it's always darkest before the dawn, and the stars in their
courses are against Sisera."

With the sheriff and Mr. Camp I then walked over to the saloon, where
Judge Wilson was waiting to dispose of my case. Mr. Cullen and Albert
tried to come too, but all outsiders were excluded by order of the
"court." I was told to show cause why I should not forthwith produce
the letters, and answered that I asked an adjournment of the case so
that I might be heard by counsel. It was denied, as was to have been
expected; indeed, why they took the trouble to go through the forms
was beyond me. I told Wilson I should not produce the letters, and
he asked if I knew what that meant. I couldn't help laughing and
retorting--

"It very appropriately means 'contempt of the court,' your honor."

"I'll give you a stiff term, young man," he said.

"It will take just one day to have habeas corpus proceedings in a
United States court, and one more to get the papers here," I rejoined
pleasantly.

Seeing that I understood the moves too well to be bluffed, the judge,
Mr. Camp, and the lawyer held a whispered consultation. My surprise
can be imagined when, at its conclusion, Mr. Camp said--

"Your honor, I charge Richard Gordon with being concerned in the
holding up of the Missouri Western Overland No. 3 on the night of
October 14, and ask that he be taken into custody on that charge."

I couldn't make out this new move, and puzzled over it, while Judge
Wilson ordered my commitment. But the next step revealed the object,
for the lawyer then asked for a search-warrant to look for stolen
property. The judge was equally obliging, and began to fill one out on
the instant.

This made me feel pretty serious, for the letters were in my
breast-pocket, and I swore at my own stupidity in not having put
them in the station safe when I had first arrived at Ash Fork. There
weren't many moments in which to think while the judge scribbled away
at the warrant, but in what time there was I did a lot of head-work,
without, however, finding more than one way out of the snarl. And when
I saw the judge fi