Adventure, June 1911 — page 57: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Necessity’s Law in Paradise inherited from a suddenly deceased prede- cessor. The law books, be it understood, contained all the knowledge of law the office “of County Attorney now held. It was not necessary to know law to be elected County Attorney in Paradise. When the good citizens of Paradise had first suggested the office to William Gordon King, he hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment. During that moment of hesitation a vision of the railroad grade arose before his eyes and the next he was nominated for County Attorney. He argued with himself that, granting he had no knowledge of law, neither had he pos- sessed any knowledge of mining or railroads, and if in the few months he had been in their midst, the inhabitants of Paradise had seen in him the making of'a legal light, far be it from him to depreciate himself. The previous occupations of miner and day- laborer were unknown to his supporters in Paradise, with the exception of Mazaro. Mazaro kept his own counsel and Big Bill did the same. : | At the hour of Mazaro’s visit, Bill King had occupied the office of County Attorney for just two weeks, that is, he had held pos- ‘session of the office. There had been no duties to perform, so it was not the obliga- tions of office that caused him to curse his stars. It was not the position of County Attorney. It was not even Mazaro, who had guided him thither. It was Paradise, just Paradise—the most desolate spot in all this barren country. And in this dreary desert with its sacrilegious name, he had sworn to stalk for one year as a mighty limb of the law. THE sound of the church-bell an- & nounced the Angelus hour and, kicking his cigar-stubs into a cor- ner, the County Attorney of Paradise started home to his evening meal at the ranch of Pedro Espejo. There was small companionship between the Easterner and Pedro, the ranch-owner, or his wife, and “‘Sefior” King ate his supper and drank his vile, black coffee in silence. ' Paradise weighed heavily upon him to- night and wrapped him in a gloom too dense for the wreaths of smoke from his big black cigar to penetrate. Not even the remem- brance of Mazaro Gonzales’ visit or Ma- zaro Gonzales’ family troubles could seep 243 through the pall of his own self-absorption, until some remark of Espejo’s wife, spoken ‘in Spanish to her husband, in which she men- tioned the name of Bonita, brought him out of his pit of despair, for Bonita was the name of Mazaro’s sister. “T wonder if Francisco does beat up his wife,’ he mused. ‘Funny that Mazaro should have made that call on me this after- noon. Maybe he wanted the benefit of my legal knowledge,” .and he almost smiled. ‘“Maybe—Great Heavens!” and his breath stopped as the seriousness of the situation dawned upon him. Had Mazaro come to him for legal advice? Was the story of the brother-in-law, told in the brief words of | this Greaser, his ignorant way of consult- ing an attorney? An overwhelming terror seized Big Bill King, who had never known fear in his life. The more he thought, the greater grew his fear. He had known Mazaro as a quiet, peaceable fellow who lived alone in his little adobe shack and seldom spoke of himself or his affairs. Once or twice he had spoken of Bonita to Bill King when the day’s work was over on the railroad grade, and always in a bluntly tender way, but never until to-day had he mentioned the fact of her domestic infelicity. | So scant was the County Attorney’s acquaintance with methods of jurispru- dence that he had given freely of his advice to Mazaro, never dreaming that anything more than a hypothetical case was being presented. He had spoken to a friend, not a client. As the evening wore on he became more. and more oppressed with the thought, and finally determined to ease his conscience by going to Mazaro’s ’dobe and talking the matter over. Once outside the ranchhouse, he felt bet- ter and breathed deeply of the still night air. However much the Greasers might be stick- ing knives between one another’s fifth and sixth ribs within their cabins, the night without was quiet as the near-by graveyard, and the only sound was the howl of the lobos, or big wolves, that came from the dis- tant hills. King walked quickly along the white, dusty road, watching the shifting patterns traced on the path as the moonlight slanted through the scattering mesquite. | As he neared the church he heard the tolling of a bell and, rounding a corner, he EO DOO) ANG SoCO