He then went
on to point out the serious danger which the young man had so narrowly
escaped.
"Why, man," exclaimed the Commissioner, "you might have committed
murder."
Here the young fellow said something to the interpreter. There was a
flicker of a smile on the half-breed's face.
"He say dat pistol he no good. He can't shoot. He not loaded."
The Commissioner's face never changed a line. He gravely turned the
pistol over in his hand, and truly enough the rusty weapon appeared to
be quite innocuous except to the shooter.
"This is an extremely dangerous weapon. Why, it might have killed
yourself--if it had been loaded. We cannot allow this sort of thing.
However, since it was not loaded we shall make the sentence light. I
sentence you to one month's confinement."
The interpreter explained the sentence to the young Indian, who received
the explanation without the movement of a muscle or the flicker of an
eyelid. The constable touched him on the shoulder and said, "Come!"
Before he could move old Crowfoot with two strides stood before the
constable, and waving him aside with a gesture of indescribable dignity,
took his son in his arms and kissed him on either cheek. Then, stepping
back, he addressed him in a voice grave, solemn, and vibrant with
emotion. Jerry interpreted to the Court.
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