IN JUDGE LYNCH'S JURY-BOX. 319 



town. We were already acquainted with the pen- 

 chant our Sheridanites had for hanging people. 

 Thirty or more graves on the neighboring hill had 

 been pointed out before sundown, as those of persons 

 who had fallen under sentence from Judge Lynch. In 

 the expressive language of the citizen who volun- 

 teered the information, there had been " thirty funer- 

 als, and not one nateral death." Now that Judge 

 Lynch had opened court at our own door, we pro- 

 posed to raise the question of jurisdiction. 



Armed, at once, we set off for a rescue, and, stum- 

 bling through the darkness, had gone only a hundred 

 yards or so, when we met the lynchers returning. At 

 their head, with a very dirty piece of rope around his 

 neck, walked our hostler, trembling all over, and 

 chattering broken English rapidly, in mingled fright 

 and anger. The leader of the party told us that the 

 evidence not being quite sufficient for hanging, an ex- 

 tra session of court had been called to be held im- 

 mediately, and as having some interest in the case, 

 we were invited to seats on the jury. The trial, we 

 were further informed, was to be held in Rombeaux's 

 own house. This last was a new surprise, for reasons 

 to be explained presently. Rombeaux had been with 

 us ever since leaving Hays, and had gained his title 

 of " Honest " from a particularly faithful discharge 

 of duty. 



To him had been intrusted the supplies for hired 

 men and horses. Three of the Mexicans he had 

 severally thrashed for stealing. Once, in the night, 

 on Silver Creek, we had heard a rattling at the medi- 

 cine-chest, and trembling for our limited stock of 



