he knew that he, Pike, was a poor man, he feared that it would be too expensive for him. Pike said, "damn the expense," he wanted justice, and he would have it or die. "Well," said his counsel, "if you can give the requisite security and get a writ of certiorari from the County Court at Sonora, you can have the case carried up there and tried before a jury in spite of the old scoundrel."
"How much security, Major?"
"Well, double the value of the ground; say $800 in a bond, with two good sureties, or the amount in dust."
"And the other thing; what d'ye call it, Major?"
"Why, a certiorari!"
"A which?"
"A certiorari!"
Pike repeated the last phrase over several times, and in deep thought made his way to the nearest saloon and called for "whisky straight," of which he swallowed about half a pint, and then sat down to think it over. As the liquor, little by little, took effect on his brain, he saw his way clearer and clearer out of the legal muddle, and at last rising equal to the occasion, he started a little unsteadily to his feet, and made his way as straight as he was able to the court room. Entering the hall of justice with the light of coming triumph in his eyes, and calm determination depicted on his severely classic countenance, he advanced boldly to the Judge's table, and striking an imposing attitude, opened the campaign as follows:
"Well, Judge, I've talked this yere matter over
