Thet might come from their gun-throwin’ proclivity, an’ then again it might be thet few Texans deserve to swing. In this case, I’m refusin’ your offer of a jury. The law of this county is invested in me.”

“Kiskadden, you may rest assured your authority will not last long,” rejoined Surface heatedly.

“All right. The hearin’ ‘s on,” called out Kiskadden loudly. “Deputy Bodkin, step forward.” Bodkin took the oath.

“Now proceed with yore testimony.”

“Wal, sir, it was late after two o’clock, night before last,” began Bodkin, glib with importance. “I’d been playin’ cards an’ had hardly got asleep when I was woke by somebody at my winder. I seen two men. They was strangers. One of them told me they’d watched a cowboy shoot another off his horse, search him, and drag him into the cabin. Thet was the old Hill cabin, six miles west of town.

“My informant told me the cowboy came out of the cabin, unsaddled the horses, an’ turned them loose. Then he went back. It was rainin’. He’d likely stay in the cabin till daybreak. Then the two fellers rustled off in the dark. I heerd their horses. Wal, I got up, dressed, an’ rustled out for a posse. At thet hour, it wasn’t easy. It was near dawn when I’d collected ten men. Inskip come along on his own accord. I didn’t want him.

“Wal, we rode out fast, an’ arrived at the cabin, jest at daybreak. The prisoner thar had just stepped out the door. We held him up, took his gun an’ what he had in his pockets. I seen blood on his hand. I sent men inside to search the cabin. They found the dead man an’ fetched him out. It was Allen Neece. His pockets were turned inside out. I heerd to-day thet Neece won a hundred dollars at faro the afternoon before he rode out of town. He was goin’ to see some girl.

“Wal, the prisoner hyar sure went white an’ sick when the dead boy was carried out an’ laid on the grass. A blind man could have seen thet he’d murdered him.