impatience at
what I regarded as a too flippant spirit on the part of my old
cattleman. In the polite kindliness of his nature he made haste to
smooth down my fur.

"To be shore I onderstands you. As to the real thing in hypnotism,
however, thar arises as I recalls eevents but few examples in Arizona.
The Southwest that a-way ain't the troo field for them hypnotists, the
weak-minded among the pop'lation bein' redooced to minimum. Now an'
then of course some hypnotic maverick, who's strayed from the eastern
range, takes to trackin' 'round among us sort o' blind an' permiscus.
But he never stays long, an' is generally tickled to death when some
vig'lance committee so far reelents as to let him escape back.

"Over in Bernilillo once, I'm present when a mob gets its rope onto
one of these yere wizards, an' it's nothin' but the mercy of hell an'
the mean pars'mony of what outcasts has him in charge, which saves him
from bein' swung up. Mind you, it ain't no vig'lance committee, but a
mob, that's got him.

"Whatever is the difference?

"Said difference, son, is as a spanless gulf. A vig'lance committee is
the coolest kind of comin' together of the integrity an' the brains of
a commoonity. A mob, on the other hand, is a chance-blown convention
of deestructionists, as savagely brainless as a pack of timber wolves.
A vig'lance committee seeks jestice; a mob is merely out for blood."

"About this Bernilillo business?"

The old gentleman, as though the recital might take some time,
signalled the black attendant to bring refreshments. The bottle
comfortably at his elbow, he proceeded.

"I was thar, as I says, but I takes no part for either 'yes' or 'no,'
bein' no more'n simply a 'looker on in Vienna,' as the actor party
observes over in the Bird Cage Op'ry House. Thar's one of them
hypnotizin' sharps who's come bulgin' into Bernilillo to give a show.
Nacherally the local folks raps for a showdown; they insists he
entrance some one they knows, an' refooses to be put off by him
hypnotizin' what herd of hirelin's he's brought with him, on the
argyooment that them humbugs is in all likelihood but cappers for his
game.

"Thus stood up, the professor, as he calls himself, begins rummagin'
'round for a subject. Thar's a little Frenchman who's been pervadin'
about Bernilillo, claimin' to be a artist. Which he's shore a painter
all right. I sees him myse'f take a bresh an' a batch of colors, an'
paint a runnin' iron so it looks