Ralph Henry Barbour

“ At nine-fifteen Father Murray entered the jail with the Sheriff. Then the latter emerged alone and, grave-faced and inscrutable, silently observed from the little bench the crowd about the scaffold across the road. Every few minutes a party of "punchers" rode up, tethered their horses and joined the throng. Trump Collier's friends were genuinely sorry for him, but, since the petition had failed of effect, there was nothing left for them to do save attend the ceremony and so give expression to the high esteem in which they held him. ”

“ The Sheriff was a power in Opuntia County.
When the cactus flower was dyed a rich brown the Sheriff arose and entered the jail. To the right was the office, a small bare room furnished chiefly with empty packing cases. Across the corridor were three empty cells. A fourth contained a camp-bed, a table, a chair, and some newspaper illustrations against the whitewashed walls. It also contained a man. And to him the Sheriff spoke.
"Want to come outside. Trump?"
The prisoner arose languidly and followed his jailer into the open air, seating himself beside him on the bench. ”

“ Gentlemen, help yerselves ter ther whiskey. There's more right handy. I'll explain matters ter yer. Yer see it's like this—Jim, fill ther Guv'ner's glass; want ter see him starve right afore yer eyes?—Trump Collier's an innercent man ! Now hold on, gentlemen! I'm doin' ther talkin'; all you've got ter do is ter listen. The representative citizens of this county, recognizing that fact, drew up a petition an' placed ther same afore ther Guv'ner. Ther Guv'ner didn't see his way ter grantin' that petition, not knowin' like ther rest of us, that the prisoner is innercent. ”