In Texas

Once there was a tradition in Texas: "No law west of the Pecos." In the old days, brave and bad, the pistol alone was guardian of good manners. In slightly later times a judge, one Roy Bean, conducted a combined saloon and courthouse in which it was his habit to decide shooting cases in a few minutes so as not to interfere with the regular business of the court--white lightning. They are gone, those days. Last week another judge, one Mullican, travelled 150 miles to Langtry on the Rio Grande, there held court. Helped by 250 witnesses, scores of attorneys, he sentenced a culprit to 50 years for the shooting of two cattle-inspectors.

Tom Ross--he was the culprit; wild Tom Ross, gallant Tom Ross, "the last of the bad men." A man as lean as a knife, with narrow lips, wide cheekbones and a jewel in his eye, he shot those who insulted him with laudable courtesy. The cattle inspectors, for instance. They had been so ill-advised as to report some piracies-of his. He went to their hotel, shot them. He was oppressed at his trial, which lasted over a month, as one forced to endure a protracted breach of good taste. When the sentence was read, he commiserated the jury for the caddish behavior which, he felt, had been forced upon them. "You couldn't help it," said he. "You had to do your duty." Nevertheless, a precedent has fallen. There is law west of the Pecos.