been threatened time and again by Jules, and was once
shot and left for dead by the latter, who emptied a pistol and a shotgun
at Slade, and left him lying with thirteen bullets and buckshot in his
body. Jules thought he did not need to shoot Slade any more after that,
and gave directions for his burial as soon as he should have died. At
that Slade rose on his elbow and promised Jules he would live and would
wear one of his, Jules', ears on his watch chain; a threat which no
doubt gave rise to a certain part of his ghastly reputation. Jules was
hung for a while by the stage people, but was let down and released on
promise of leaving the country never to return. He did not keep his
promise, and it had been better for him if he had.

Jules Reni was a big Frenchman, one of that sort of early ranchers who
were owners of small ranches and a limited number of cattle and
horses--just enough to act as a shield for thefts of live stock, and to
offer encouragement to such thefts. Before long Jules was back at his
old stamping-grounds, where he was looked on as something of a bully;
and at once he renewed his threats against Slade.

Slade went to the officers of the military post at Laramie, the only
kind of authority then in the land, which had no sort of courts or
officers, and asked them what he should do. They told him to have Jules
captured and then to kill him, else Jules would do the same for him.
Slade sent four men out to the ranch where Jules was stopping, about
twelve miles from Laramie, while he followed in the stage-coach. These
men captured Jules at a ranch a little farther down the line, and left
him prisoner at the stage station. Here Slade found him in the corral, a
prisoner, unarmed and at his mercy, and without hesitation he shot him,
the ball striking him in the mouth. His victim fell and feigned death,
but Slade--who was always described as a good pistol shot--saw that he
was not killed, and told him he should have time to make his will if he
desired. There is color in the charge of deliberate cruelty, but
perhaps rude warrant for the cruelty, under the circumstances of
treachery in which Jules had pursued Slade. At least, some time elapsed
while a man was running back and forward from the house to the corral
with pen and ink and paper. Jules never signed his will. When the last
penful of ink came out to the corral, Jules was dead, shot through the
head by Slade. This looks like cruelty of an unnecessary sort