“I says that’s the best way out of it, being myself a heavy taxpayer; and I go see this Snyder lawyer, and then over to the jail and get into Pete’s cell, where he’s having a high old time with a sack of peppermint candy and a copy of the Scientific American.  I tell him to cut out the brother-in-law stuff and just say ‘No’ to any question whatever.  He said he would, and I went off home to rest up after my hard ride.

“Judge Ballard calls that night and says everything is fixed.  No use putting the county to the expense of a trial when Pete has such a classy perjured alibi as I would give him.  Myron Bughalter is to go out of the jail in a careless manner at nine-thirty that night, leaving all cells unlocked and the door wide open so Pete can make his escape without doing any damage to the new building.  It seems the only other prisoner is old Sing Wah, that they’re willing to save money on, too.  He’d got full of perfumed port and raw gin a few nights before, announced himself as a prize-hatchet man, and started a tong war in the laundry of one of his cousins.  But Sing was sober now and would stay so until the next New Year’s; so they was going to let him walk out with Pete.  The judge said Pete would probably be at the Arrowhead by sunup, and if he’d behave himself from now on the law would let bygones be bygones.  I thanked the judge and went to bed feeling easy about old Pete.

“But at seven the next morning I’m waked up by the telephone—­wanted down to the jail in a hurry.  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.  He’s fled back to his cell and stands there as dignified as if he was going to lay a cornerstone.  He’s a grave rebuke to the whole situation, as you might say.  Then the Judge and Cale go through some kind of a hocus-pocus talk, winding up with both of them saying ‘Not guilty!’ in a loud voice; and Myron says to Pete:  ’There!  You had your trial; now get out of my jail this minute.’