The morning star and Catholic messenger., 1875-12-19
4 MoUNTAIN Court SCENE.
HOW THE NAME OF "MorHER SAVED A
LIFE.

Old Job Dawson had been duly elected |
to fll the responsible position of Justice |
of the Peace, and this was the first case |
which had demanded his attention. Job
was an old veteran mountaineer, and had
lived in the shadow of the lofty peaks
hunting, trapping and fighting Indians, to
use his own words, "s sense Adam war
kid" In that rough region an accusation
forerunner of hanging bee, and trial
even is seldom thought of. But in the
present instance q wild "cuss" who bad
been frequenting the settlements had ap--
propriated a broncho" undian ponyl
belonging to neighboring rancbman, and
had been pursued, captured and brought
back Old Job was summoned to try the
culprit, and spot in the rocky gulch near
the sSquire's cabin was selected as the
site for the investigation. A motley crowd
had assembled. Some were lying upon
the ground and others sitting upon the
rock all anxiously awaiting the 'Sqaire's
coming. Job soon came from towards his
cabin, and with dignified air seated him
self upon boulder, took off his bearskin
cap, and said:
"Fellers, the Court ar ready to git
down to biz, an want ye all to cheese yer
| racket an let up on that chin music ac-
cording to law. Throw ger ha'r in sight
and pay 'tention to the Court"
| Every hat came off at his command, and
"His Honor" glancing around the circle,
said:
"Whar is the cuss 2"
| Three mountaineers armed with Henry
rifles and six-shooters stepped forward with
the thief, a young man wearing bold,
devil may care expression. His hands
were securely fastened behind bis back
with buckskin thongs. Clad in buck skin
from head to foot, he presented
picturesque appearance as he faced the
Squire.
"What do they call you when yer at
home Z" asked the Court.
CANT got emmy home, leastways in these
parts," sullenly replied the prisoner.
Amt hey Z Well watts the name you
tuck wen you left the States, thenf"
The boys hyer on the hills call me
Tiger jim"
"Wall Tige, yer spotted as a horse thief,
an reckon thar's sumthin' in it or the boy s
wudn't brought you in. You can't expect
a toney trial like you'd git dewn to Lara
mie or in eny of those towns along the
road. We hevn't eDy paper, pens or ink,
OF eny o that sort o. foolishuess up hyer in
the hills, an thar amt one o. US as could
engineer 'em eff We had, SO We'll jist grind
her through, an do the best we kin for you.
In the name o. the law now ak you did
you collar thet hoss-but stop 'er rite thar,
doggone it, I forgot to swar you. Cum
mitey near forgittin' 1T. dold up yer rlgnt
han'!"
/ "Hold up nothin'. How kin when
they'r tied titer'n blazes7"
"That's 80. Yer k'rect, Tiger, but gesa
eny member o. the body I'll be 'cordin to
ere e sos he lin inf hold Gp his @ right
"Tige" raised his moccasin-covered
foot while guard on each side held him in
position.
snow, then, amt fly on them ar law
yers' affydavys, but I'll make her stout
enuff to hold Mexican mule. Tiger Jim
do you swar by the holy Moses, accordin
to the laws of Wyoming Territory, thet
every time ye chip inte my racket yell
give us the squar' truth. An ef you dom
do you hope that ye may git chawed up by
grizzly, chopped to pieces by Sioux
thievin' neck an' fail to connect OF
heaven wen yer life goes out, to the bes
o. yer understandin' as provided by law
s'help yer God, eh?
,, "That jist Wat l does, psrdy." 49,
ev'ry time yer speak yer want ter hit the
bulls eye. Did you nip thet hossf"
avail Uncle Job, there's no use O. lyin
about it an I'il tell you jist how it wal
Las night you know thar war jambore
over to Al. Wilkins rancho in Miller
bulge, an We all got putty full. Arter tn
I dancin' war over pulled out fur Bowles'
+ rancho, wbar I'm hangin' out an as wa
) staggerin' down round Mountain Cat Hill
! runs right onto the broncho that wa
picketed out in the grass, an war jis
, drunk enough to mount him an lite out
r 1 know Pm goin' to swing fur it an I'll di
q game, too. amt woth a cuss anyway al
Eft wran't fur my good old mother bac
! in the States (here the tears began to rol
q down his bronzed cheeks) who never close
. her eyes 'thout prayin' fur God to send m
Il back to her, I'd laugh at death, en- help. y
q a to fix the rope, but when 1 think o. tina
4 darling old soul git weaker ma wounde
cuss ever sense 1 struck out fur thes
mountins, and s'pose the world'll be bet
~ ter 'thout me in it. My old mOtherll euf
d fer, know that, fur Pm her only kid, ar
h could spare, an it's all ehe's he'd to live or
4 She's bin a good un to me, God bless hel
y an I'm sorry Thevn't lived SOS can cam
"a with her up thar (raising his fearful eye
e toward Heaven) and, boys, won't some {
| Vi EnO