an got a right to his artistic feelin's?" Arizona Jack
demanded. "I gave Ferguson warnin'. It was violatin' my own nature to
go on listening to his little birds. Why, there's music sharps that fine-
strung an' keyed-up they'd kill for heaps less'n I did. I'm willin' to
pay for havin' artistic feelin's. I can take my medicine an' lick the
spoon, but three days' grub is drawin' it a shade fine, that's all, an' I
hereby register my kick. Go on with the funeral."

O'Brien was still wavering. He glanced inquiringly at Mucluc Charley.

"I should say, Judge, that three days' grub was a mite severe," the
latter suggested; "but you're runnin' the show. When we elected you
judge of this here trial court, we agreed to abide by your decisions, an'
we've done it, too, b'gosh, an' we're goin' to keep on doin' it."

"Mebbe I've been a trifle harsh, Jack," O'Brien said apologetically--"I'm
that worked up over those killings; an' I'm willing to make it a week's
grub." He cleared his throat magisterially and looked briskly about him.
"And now we might as well get along and finish up the business. The
boat's ready. You go and get the grub, Leclaire. We'll settle for it
afterward."

Arizona Jack looked grateful, and, muttering something about "damned
little birds," stepped aboard the open boat that rubbed restlessly
against the bank. It was a large skiff, built of rough pine planks that
had been sawed by hand from the standing timber of Lake Linderman, a few
hundred miles above, at the foot of Chilcoot. In the boat were a pair of
oars and Arizona Jack's blankets. Leclaire brought the grub, tied up in
a flour-sack, and put it on board. As he did so, he whispered--"I gave
you good measure, Jack. You done it with provocation."

"Cast her off!" Arizona Jack cried.

Somebody untied the painter and threw it in. The current gripped the
boat and whirled it away. The murderer did not bother with the oars,
contenting himself with sitting in the stern-sheets and rolling a
cigarette. Completing it, he struck a match and lighted up. Those that
watched on the bank could see the tiny puffs of smoke. They remained on
the bank till the boat swung out of sight around the bend half a mile
below. Justice had been done.

The denizens of Red Cow imposed the law and executed sentences without
the delays that mark the softness of civilization. There was no law on
the Yukon save what they made for themselves. They were compelled to