And he acquitted himself nobly. He arrested a murderer the very day
after his sureties were accepted, and although Charley was by far the
smaller and paler of the two, the murderer submitted tamely, and dared
not look into Charley's eye. Instead of scolding the delinquent
tax-payers, the new sheriff sympathized with them, and the county
treasury filled rapidly. The self-appointed "regulators" caught a
horse-thief a week or two after Charley's installment into office, and
were about to quietly hang him, after the time-honored custom of Western
regulators, when Charley dashed into the crowd, pointed his pistol at
the head of Deacon Bent, the leader of the enraged citizens, remarked
that _all_ sorts of murder were contrary to the law he had sworn to
maintain, and then led the thief off to jail. The regulators were
speechless with indignation for the space of five minutes--then they
hurried to the jail; and when Charley Mansell, with pale face but set
teeth, again presented his pistol, they astonished him with three
roaring cheers, after which each man congratulated him on his courage.

In short, Bunkerville became a quiet place. The new sheriff even went so
far as to arrest the disturbers of camp-meetings; yet the village boys
indorsed him heartily, and would, at his command, go to jail in squads
of half a dozen with no escort but the sheriff himself. Had it not been
that Charley occasionally went to prayer-meetings and church, not a
rowdy at Bunkerville could have found any fault with him.

But not even in an out-of-the-way, malarious Missouri village, could a
model sheriff be for ever the topic of conversation. Civilization moved
forward in that part of the world in very queer conveyances sometimes,
and with considerable friction. Gamblers, murderers, horse-thieves,
counterfeiters, and all sorts of swindlers, were numerous in lands so
near the border, and Bunkerville was not neglected by them. Neither