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“It’s two days the camp is talkin’ over who does this crime, when Texas Thompson begins to shed a beam of light. This last was onlooked for, an’ tharfore all the more interestin’.

“Texas Thompson is a jedge of whiskey sech as any gent might tie to. He’s a middlin’ shot with a Colt’s .44 an’ can protect himse’f at poker. But nobody ever reckons before that Texas can think. Which I even yet deems this partic’lar time a inspiration, in which event Texas Thompson don’t have to think.

“It’s over in the Red Light the second after. noon when Texas turns loose a whole lot.

“‘Enright,’ he says, ‘I shore has a preemonition this yere Burke gets plugged by Pinon Bill.’

“‘How does the kyards run so as to deal s’picions on Pinon Bill?’ says Enright.

“‘This a-way,’ says Texas, some confident an’ cl’ar; ‘somebody downs Burke; that’s dead certain. Burke don’t put that hole in the middle of his back himse’f; no matter how much he reckons it improves him. Then, when it’s someone else who is it? Now,’ goes on Texas, as glib as wolves, ‘yere’s how I argues: You-all don’t do it; Peets don’t do it; Boggs don’t do it; thar’s not one of us who does it. An’ thar you be plumb down to Pinon Bill. In the very nacher of the deal, when no one else does it an’ it’s done, Pinon Bill’s got to do it. I tells you as shore as my former wife at Laredo’s writin’ insultin’ letters to me right now, this yere Pinon Bill’s the party who shoots up that miner gent Burke.’

“What Texas Thompson says makes an impression; which it’s about the first thoughtful remark he ever makes, an’ tharfore we’re prone to give it more’n usual attention.

“We imbibes on it an’ talks it up an’ down, mebby it’s half an hour; an’ the more we drinks an’ the harder we thinks, the cl’arer it keeps gettin’ that mighty likely this yere Texas has struck the trail. At last Jack Moore, who’s, as I often says, prompt an’ vig’lant that a-way, lines out to hunt this yere Pinon Bill.

“Whyever do they call him Pinon Bill? Nothin’ much; only once he comes into camp drunk an’ locoed; an’ bein’ in the dark an’ him hawg-hungry, he b’iles a kettle of pinon-nuts, a-holdin’ of ’em erroneous to be beans, an’ as sech aimin’ to get some food outen ’em a whole lot. He goes to sleep while he’s pesterin’ with ’em, an’ when the others tumbles to his game in the mornin’, he’s branded as ‘Pinon Bill’ ever more.

“When Jack hops out to round-up Pinon Bill, all he does is go into the street. The first thing he notes is this yere Pinon Bill’s pony standin’ saddled over by the O. K. House, like he plans to pull his freight.

“‘Which that bronco standin’ thar,’ says Jack to Enright, ‘makes it look like Texas calls the turn with them surmises.’ An’ it shorely does.

“This pony makes Jack’s play plenty simple; all he does now is to sa’nter ’round the pony casooal like an’ lay for Pinon Bill.

“Jack’s too well brought up to go surgin’ into rooms lookin’ for Pinon Bill, where Jack’s eyes comin’ in outen the sun that a-way, can’t see for a minute nohow, an’ where Pinon Bill has advantages. It’s better to wait for him outside.

“You-all saveys how it’s done in the West. When a gent’s needed you allers opens the game with a gun-play.

“‘Hold up your hands!’ says you, sorter indicatin’ a whole lot at your prey with a gun.

“Which, by the way, if he don’t enter into the sperit of the thing prompt an’ p’int his paws heavenward an’ no delay, you-all mustn’t fall into no abstractions an’ forget to shoot some. When you observes to a fellow-bein’ that a-way

‘Hold up your hands!’ you must be partic’lar an’ see he does it. Which if you grows lax on this p’int he’s mighty likely to put your light out right thar.