I go there soon as I can get a drink of hot
coffee and find that poor Myron Bughalter is having his troubles. He'd
got there at seven, thinking, of course, to find both his prisoners
gone; and here in the corridor is Pete setting on the chest of Sing Wah,
where he'd been all night, I guess! He tells Myron he's a fool sheriff
to leave his door wide open that way, because this bad Chinaman tried to
walk out as soon as he'd gone, and would of done so it Pete hadn't
jumped him.
"It leaves Myron plenty embarrassed, but he finally says to Pete he can
go free, anyway, now, for being such an honest jailbird; and old Sing
Wah can go, too, having been punished enough by Pete's handling. Sing
Wah slides out quickly enough at this, promising to send Myron a dozen
silk handkerchiefs and a pound of tea. But not Pete. No, sir! He tells
Myron he's give himself up to be tried, and he wants that trial and
won't budge till he gets it.
"Then Myron telephoned for the judge and the district attorney, and for
me. We get there and tell Pete to beat it quick. But the old mule isn't
going to move one step without that trial.
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