Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1878-02-20
A MOUNTAIN COURT SCENE.

A MOUNTAIN COURT SCENE.
Old Job Dawson had been duly elect
4 to fill the responsible position of a
Justice of the Peace and this was the
first case which demanded his atten-
ton. Job was an old veteran noun
taineer, and had lived in the shadow of
the lofty peaks, hunting, trapping, and
fighting Indians to use his own words,
"sense Adam was a kid" In that
rough region, an accusation of great
crime against any one is but fore
runner of a hanging bee," and trial
even is seldom thought of. But in the
present instance, wild "cuss'' who
had been frequenting the settlements
had appropriated broncho" (Indian
pony belonging to aneighboring ranch
man, and had been pursued, captured,
and brought back. Old Job was sum-
moned to try the culprit, and spot in
rocky gulch near the 'Squire's cabin
was selected as the site for the investi-
cation. A motley crowd of hunters,
trappers, miners and rancheros had as
sembled. Some were lying upon the
ground, and others sitting upon the
rocks, all anxiously awaiting the
'Squire's coming. Job soon came from
toward his cabin. and with dignifed
air seated himself upon a boulder,
took off his bear skin cap, and said
Fellers, the court ar ready to git
down to biz, and l want We all to cheese
yer racket, an let up on that chin
music, according to law. Throw your
mar in sight, and pay 'tention to the
court"
Every hat come off at his command.
and his Honor" glancing around the
circle, said:
"Whar is the cuss ~
Three mountaineers, armed with
Henry rifles and six-shooters, stepped
forward with the thief, young man,
wearing bold, devil-may-care express
sion. His hands were securely fastened
behind his back with buckskin thongs.
Clad in buckskin from head to foot, he
presented a picturesque appearance, as
he faced the Squire.
What do they call you, when We are
at homer" asked the court.
Amt got emmy home-leastwise in
these parts" sullenly replied the prison
Amt, hey? Well, watts the name
you tux wen you left the states, then?'
The boys here on the hills call me
Tiger jim"
Wall, Tige, yer spotted as boss
thief, an | reckon thar's sumthin' IN it,
or the boys wudn't brought you in.
You can't expect toney trial, like
you'd git down to Laramie, or emmy O.
them towns along the road. We hewitt
eny paper, pens or ink, or eny O that
sort Of foolishness up hyar in the hills,
an thar amt one O us as could engineer
EN- 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 tibet boss? But
stop 'er rite thar; doggone it, | forgot
to swar you. Come mitey near for
Hold up nuthin'. How kin l, when
they're tied titer'n blazes?"
"Thets SO. Yer k'rect, Tiger, but
CESS eny member O the body III be
'cording to law, in 'xtreme cases. Stedy
him a little, fellers, SOS he kin hold up
his right foot"
"Tge" raised his moccasin-covered
foot, While a guard on each side held
him in position.
"Now, then, 1 amt fly on them al
lawyers affydavy's, but I'll make her
stout enuff to hold a Mexican mule.
Tiger Jim, do you swear by the holy
Moses, accordin' to the laws of Wyom-
ing territory: tibet every time We chip
into my racket, yell give us the squar
truth /? An eff you don't, do you hope
that We may git chawed up by a grizzly
chopped to pieces by Sioux, strung up
to pine with rope round your dam
thievin' neck, an fail to connect On
Heaven wen yer life goes out, to the
best O yer understandin' as provided
by law, s'help yer God, eh?"
That's jist what I does, pardy."
Now, Tge, yer under oath, and
ev'ry time yer speak, yer want ter hit
the bulls eye. Did you nip thet boss %
Wall, Uncle Job, there's no use O.
lynn about it, an I'll tell you jist how
it whar. Las night, you know, thar
war a jamboree over to Al. Wilkins
ranch, in Miller's gulch, an / war thar.
Al. had bin in to Laramie City, and
got keg O good old bulge, an we all
got purity full. AFTER the dancin' war
over, pulled out fur Bowles' ranch,
whar I'm hangin' out, an as / was
staggerin' down round Mountain Cat
Hill, | runs right onto the broncho,
that war picketed out in the grass, and
[ war jist drunk enough to mount him,
an lite out. | know Pm goin' to swing
fur it, an III die game, too. I amt
worth a cuss. anyway, an eff it warn't
fur my good old mother, back in the
states, there the tears began to roll
down his Drowned cheeks, who never
closes her eyes 'thout prayin' fur God
to send me back to her, I'd laugh at
death, an hel p ye to fix the rope; but
when think o. that darlin old soul, ]
git weaker'n wounded antelope. ]
tell We, fellers, I've been a tuff cuss
ever sense struck out fur these noun
tains, an [ s'pose the world IL be better
'thout me in it. My old mother II
suffer, know that, fur Pm her only