Clarence started. In spite of its monotonous utterance it was the voice
of the red-bearded controversialist of the stage-coach. But where were
his characteristic beard and hair? Involuntarily Clarence glanced at
Judge Beeswinger; that gentleman was quietly regarding the stranger with
an impassive face that betrayed no recognition whatever.
"But the city of San Francisco has no jurisdiction here," said Colonel
Starbottle, turning a bland smile towards his fellow-members. "I
am--er--sorry to inform you that you are simply trespassing, sir."
"I am here also as deputy sheriff," returned the stranger coolly. "We
were unable to locate the precise place of this meeting, although we
knew of its existence. I was sworn in this morning at Santa Inez by the
judge of this district, and these gentlemen with me are my posse."
There was a quick movement of resistance by the members, which was,
however, again waived blandly aside by Colonel Starbottle. Leaning
forward in a slightly forensic attitude, with his fingers on the table
and a shirt frill that seemed to have become of itself erectile, he
said, with pained but polite precision, "I grieve to have to state, sir,
that even that position is utterly untenable here.
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