e doesn't
need to be. Why a pan miner needn't even speak to his next neighbour
unless he wants to; and a cradle miner need bother only with his
partners!"

"Miners' meetings have done some pretty good legislation," I pointed
out.

"Legislation; yes!" cried the doctor. "Haven't you discovered that the
American has a perfect genius for organization? Eight coal heavers on a
desert island would in a week have a full list of officers, a code of
laws, and would be wrangling over ridiculous parliamentary points of
order in their meetings. That's just the trouble. The ease with which
Americans can sketch out a state on paper is an anodyne to conscience.
We get together and pass a lot of resolutions, and go away with a
satisfied feeling that we've really done something."

"But I believe a camp like this may prove permanent," objected Randall.

"Exactly. And by that very fact a social obligation comes into
existence. Trouble is, every mother's son tries to escape it in his own
case. What is every one's business is no one's business. Every fellow
thinks he's got away from being bothered with such things. Sooner or
later he'll find out he hasn't, and then he'll have to pay for his
vacation."

"We never stood for much thieving at Hangman's Gulch," I interposed.

"What did you do?"

"We whipped and sent them about their business."

"To some other camp. You merely passed on your responsibility; you
didn't settle it. Your whipping merely meant turning loose a revengeful
and desperate man. Your various banishments merely meant your exchanging
these fiends with the other camps. It's like scattering the coyotes that
come around your fire."

"What would you do, Doctor?" asked Randall quietly; "we have no regular
law."

"Why not? Why don't you adopt a little regular law? You need about three
in this camp--against killing, against thievery, and against assault.
Only enforce in every instance, as far as possible."

"You can't get this crowd to take time investigating the troubles of
some man they never heard of."

"Exactly."

"And if they get too bad," said Danny, "we'll have to get the stranglers
busy."

"Confound it, man!" roared Dr. Rankin, beating the table, "that's just
what I've been trying to tell you. You ought not to care so much for
punishing as for deterring. Don't you know that it's a commonplace that
it isn't the terrifying quality of the penalty that acts as a deterrent
to crime, but it's the certainty of the