rs,
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 Forks.
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 finish off his signature
with a flourish, I played a pretty desperate card.

"You're just too late, gentlemen," I said, pointing out the side
window of the saloon. "There come the cavalry."

The three conspirators jumped to their feet and bolted for the
window; even the sheriff turned to look. As he did so I gave him
a s