t.

"The law of the United States," boomed out little Skiddy, "assumes that
a prisoner is innocent until he is actually convicted. I want both of
you to remember that."

The Scanlons didn't understand a word of what he said, but they saluted,
and looked very much impressed. When you bought a Scanlon you got a lot
for your money, including a profound gravity when you addressed him. It
was the Scanlon way of recognizing that you were paying, and the
Scanlon receiving, two dollars and fifty cents a day!

At the head of his two satellites, who kept pace respectfully behind
him, Skiddy next directed himself to find Dillon. Dillon was a variety
of white Scanlon, though of an infinitely lower human type, who kept a
tiny store and cobbled shoes near the Mulivae bridge; and who, from some
assumed knowledge of legal procedure, invariably acted as clerk of the
court--any court--American, English, or the Samoan High. You associated
his heavy, bloated, grog-blossomed face, and black-dyed whiskers, as an
inevitable part of the course of justice. It was his custom to take
longhand notes of all court proceedings, as, of course, stenographers
were unknown in Apia; and at times it would seem as though all Samoan
justice boiled down to dictating to Dillon. As a witness, you never
looked at the judge; you looked at Dillon, and wondered whether he was
taking you down right. A careful witness always went slowly, and used
the words that Dillon was likely to understand.

Dillon having been found and engaged, the next procedure was to appoint
the assessor judges, of whom the consular instructions insisted on there
being four. This weighty matter seemed to require the cooperation of the
vice consul, Mr. Beaver, a highly respected quack doctor, whose
principal nostrum was faith cure plus hot water. After arguing away
your existence, which he always could do with extraordinary fluency, he
would plunge you into a boiling bath till your imaginary skin turned a
deep imaginary scarlet, and then send you home with some microscopic
doses of aconite. The best that could be said of him was that he never
really harmed anybody, scalded the poor for nothing, and was willing
(and even pressing) to turn over serious cases to the regular
practitioner, Dr. Funk.

There were twenty-seven American citizens on the consular roll of male
sex, sound mind, and above twenty-one years of age. Four of them lived
far from Apia, and were therefore unavailable. Two more