ocent man was ever hung. There was
no such thing as circumstantial evidence in that camp. The guilty man
was always taken red-handed. We had good laws and they were rigidly
enforced. There was no other way, sir. Short, sharp and decisive. It's
the best way. Men understand that sort of thing and honest men approve
of the method. You see, gentlemen, we had a hard lot of characters to
deal with. I wish to add, however, that before I had been up there six
months we had a singularly law-abiding and self-respecting camp. Crime
was not tolerated, not even by the men who had once been criminals.
If two men quarrelled, they were allowed to fight it out fairly and
squarely in any way they could agree upon. Knives, hatchets and all
other messy weapons were barred. It was either fists, pistols or rifles
at a fairly long range, and under the strictest rules. Duels were fought
according to Hoyle, and were witnessed by practically every one in camp.
You will perceive that Copperhead Camp was no place for a coward or a
bluffer or a bully. It takes a brave man to fight a duel with a chap who
may be only half as big as he is, but who can shoot like the devil. So
you see, Captain Trigger, the cat-o'-nine-tails has no terror for me."

Mr. Mott regarded the young man with wide-open, somewhat incredulous
eyes.

"You don't look like a fire-eating, swashbuckling party to me," he said.

"I am the most peaceable chap you've ever seen, Mr. Mott. You needn't
be alarmed. I'm not going to bite a hole in the ship and scuttle her.
Moreover, I am a very meek and lowly individual on board this ship.
There's a lot of difference between being in supreme command with all
kinds of authority to bolster you up and being a rat in a trap as I am
now. Up in Copperhead Camp I was a nabob, here I'm a nobody. Up there I
was the absolute boss of five or six hundred men,--I won't say I could
boss the women,--and I made 'em all walk chalk without once losing
step. There were murderers and crooks, blacklegs and gunmen in my genial
aggregation, men whose true names we never knew, men who were wanted in
every part of the civilized world. The only place on earth, I suppose,
where they could feel reasonably at home was in that gosh-awful nowhere
that we called Copperhead Camp. You can't handle such men with mittens.
And there were good men there as well,--good, strong, righteous men.
They were the leaven that made the whole thing palatable. Without them I
could have had