The regilators
are jest then, you see, our own people. We hain't got much law and
justice in these pairts, and when the rascals git too sassy and
plentiful, we all turn out, few or many, and make a business of cleaning
out the stables. We turn justices, and sheriffs, and lawyers, and settle
scores with the growing sinners. We jine, hand in hand, agin such a chap
as Jared Bunce, and set in judgment upon his evil-doings. It's a regilar
court, though we make it up ourselves, and app'ints our own judges and
juries, and pass judgment 'cordin' to the case. Ef it's the first
offence, or only a small one, we let's the fellow off with only a taste
of the hickory. Ef it's a tough case, and an old sinner, we give him a
belly-full. Ef the whole country's roused, then Judge Lynch puts on his
black cap, and the rascal takes a hard ride on a rail, a duck in the
pond, and a perfect seasoning of hickories, tell thar ain't much left of
him, or, may be, they don't stop to curry him, but jest halters him at
once to the nearest swinging limb.
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