“Governor,” said the young man, “there is a strike at the Big Injin.”
“Well,” replied the Executive, “telegraph the sheriff.”
“But,” said the Secretary, “the sheriff has just telegraphed us.”
“Then,” continued the Executive, “send a courier to Colonel Shiraf.”
“But Colonel Shiraf is out on the Ten Mile.” “In that case,” said the Governor, “you must go up to the mines, and if the dignity of the Commonwealth needs to be maintained, you will maintain it, Dave. You should find some troops at the post, some herders at the cattle ranch, and a very large proportion of the State Guards, by this time quite drunk, at a horse fair in Garfield County. If they are required, notify me.”
As the secretary turned to leave the room, the Governor called him back. “Dave, my boy,” he said, “peace in this Commonwealth is a sacred thing—a superlatively sacred thing, so sacred that we are going to have it if thereby the word 'census' becomes a meaningless
