CHAPTER XVIII
"Sour-Dough" to the Rescue
"Looks to this court as though a city the size of what Hopedale is gettin' to be ought to provide some place for the handin' out of justice besides this here ex-palace of gilded vice."
Judge Bill Thompson fixed a sternly disapproving eye upon an unmistakable feminine garment which still facetiously draped the chandelier, though its owner had long since departed along with the prosperity of Hopedale, which period dated from the slump in silver.
The judge had viewed the garment often without comment, but he felt that because of the ladies present at the opening of Ben Evans's trial, he owed it to himself to make it known that the holding of court in such surroundings was without his sanction and not at all to his taste.
And, indeed, the setting was unique. Buxom damsels in purple tights blew foam
