ature!

Riley Sinclair lowered his head with a sigh. Was not he himself playing
the part of the hawk? He looked straight into the eyes of the prisoner,
and Jig met the gaze without flinching. He merely smiled in an
apologetic manner, and he made a little gesture with his right hand, as
if to admit that he was helpless, and that he cast himself upon the
good will of Riley Sinclair. Riley jerked his head to one side and
scowled. He hated that appeal. He wanted this hanging to be the work of
seven men, not of one.

Montana returned, bringing with him a yellow-covered, red-backed book.
"They wasn't a sign of a Bible in the house," he stated, "but I found
this here history of the United States, with the Declaration of
Independence pasted into the back of it. I figured that ought to do
about as well as a Bible."

"You got a good head, Montana," said his honor. "Open up to that there
Declaration. Here, Larsen, put your hand on this and swear you're
telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. They
ain't going to be any bum testimony taken in this court. We ain't going
to railroad this lynching through."

He caught a glistening light of gratitude in the eyes of the
schoolteacher. Riley's own breast swelled with a sense of virtue. He
had never before taken the life of a helpless man; and now that it was
necessary, he would do it almost legally.

Larsen willingly took the oath. "I'm going to tell the truth, the whole
truth, and nothing but the truth, damn me if I don't! I was over to
Shorty Lander's store the other day--"

"What day?"

"Hmm! Last Tuesday, I reckon."

"Go on, Larsen, but gimme nothin' but the facts."

"I seen Jig come into the store. 'I want to look at a revolver,'" he
said.

"'The deuce you do! What might you want to do with a revolver, Jig?'
says Shorty. 'You mean you want a toy gun?'

"I remember them words particular clear, because I didn't see how even
a spineless gent like Jig could stand for such a pile of insult. But he
just sort of smiled with his lips and got steady with his eyes, like he
was sort of grieved.

"'I want a gun that'll kill a man,' he says to Shorty.

"Shorty and me both laughed, but, when Shorty brung out a forty-five,
doggone me if Jig didn't buy the gun.

"'Look here,' says he, 'is this the way it works?'

"And he raises it up in his skinny hand. I had to laugh.

"'Hold it in both hands,' says I.

"'Oh,' says he, and darned if he didn't take it in