"I reckon that's a thief," answered Bradley unconcernedly.
"A thief! Do they hang people for stealing out here?"
"Yes, they have to. You see, my lad, there ain't any laws here, nor
courts. If a man steals, the miners just take the matter into their
own hands, and if there ain't a doubt of it, they hang him as soon
as they catch him."
"It's horrible!" said Ben, who had never before seen the victim of a
violent death.
"Maybe it is, but what can we do?"
"Put him in prison," suggested Ben.
"There ain't any prisons, and, if there were, there would be nobody
to keep them."
Just then Bradley was hailed by a rough-looking man, whom at home
Ben would have taken for a tramp.
"What, Bradley, back again? I didn't expect to see you here?"
"I didn't expect to come, Hunter, but I fooled away my money in
'Frisco, and have come back for more."
"And who's this boy-your son, or nephew?"
"No; he's no kin to me. I ran across him down to 'Frisco. Ben, let
me make you acquainted with my old chum, Frank Hunter. He isn't much
to look at, but-"
"I have seen better days," interrupted Hunter, smiling. "I was
rather a dandy in my college days at old Yale, though I don't look
like it now.
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