h the sheepskin to Jerkline Jo, on her way to Julia, a strange
figure presented itself at the door of the lighted commissary tent of
Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number Two.

"Well, who in thunder are you?" exclaimed the young commissary clerk,
as his eyes fell upon a set of shaggy gray brows and a dusty,
bewhiskered face.

"I'm Basil Filer--ole Filer," was the croaking reply. "I jest stopped
in to see if ye got a' automobile, or a hoss an' buggy, or somethin'
here."

"Well, what if we have?"

"Thought maybe ye'd give Tehachapi Hank a ride," came the answer.
"He's too heavy for Muta--that's my biggest burro. His feet drags and
ketches in the greasewood, and Muta she gets provoked at him. He won't
bother you none--Hank won't. He's peaceable. But he oughta be got to
a constable or somethin'. You see, Hank he's dead."

This brought the clerk out into the night; and there in the light
streaming from the tent door lay the figure of a man crosswise and face
down on a burro's back.

"Ye see, I know Hank some time," explained Basil Filer simply. "And
jest last night a friend o' mine he camped with me, and said Hank was
up to his old devilment ag'in. So I was camped on the desert out there
this evenin', and Hank he drifts in. And--well, I'm watchin', you see;
and so when Hank he sidles round and I see somethin' heavylike in his
hand, why, I ups and goes for my cannon. Then Hank he goes for his,
and I have to let him have it from the hip. Got any ca'tridges,
pardner? Hank he wasted the last one I had."

"You--you killed this man?" faltered the clerk.

"I hadn't only one ca'tridge, pardner," Filer said patiently. "And
Hank he's accounted a pretty clever gunman. Well, maybe he was. Ole
Filer he shoots ole jack rabbits in the eye at twenty paces with a six,
they'll tell ye. Anyway ye can figger that out, here's Hank. And he
oughta see a coroner er somethin'. I don't want 'im. Besides, time
Muta'd packed him to Ragtown, Hank he'd spoil. Muta she never did like
Tehachapi Hank, nohow."

The following day the mortal remains of Tehachapi Hank were brought
into Ragtown, together with his self-confessed killer Basil Filer. The
constable--for Ragtown had one now--took Filer in charge and hurried
him to the county seat in Twitter-or-Tweet's machine. The burros had
been loosed to pick their living on the desert.

"So that failed beautifully!" exclaimed Al Drummond to Lucy Dalles.
"Who'd have thought that