And I want you to go with me. No Eastern
Yankee can shoot up a respectable and well-known citizen of Bildad,
'specially with a thirty-two calibre, and escape the law. Pedro
Johnson,' says Luke, 'is one of our most prominent citizens and
business men. I'll appoint Sam Bell acting sheriff with penitentiary
powers while I'm away, and you and me will take the six forty-five
northbound to-morrow evening and follow up this trail.'

"'I'm your company,' says I. 'I never see this New York, but I'd like
to. But, Luke,' says I, 'don't you have to have a dispensation or a
habeas corpus or something from the state, when you reach out that far
for rich men and malefactors?'

"'Did I have a requisition,' says Luke, 'when I went over into the
Brazos bottoms and brought back Bill Grimes and two more for holding
up the International? Did me and you have a search warrant or a posse
comitatus when we rounded up them six Mexican cow thieves down in
Hidalgo? It's my business to keep order in Mojada County.'

"'And it's my business as office deputy,' says I, 'to see that
business is carried on according to law. Between us both we ought to
keep things pretty well cleaned up.'

"So, the next day, Luke packs a blanket and some collars and his
mileage book in a haversack, and him and me hits the breeze for New
York. It was a powerful long ride. The seats in the cars was too short
for six-footers like us to sleep comfortable on; and the conductor had
to keep us from getting off at every town that had five-story houses
in it. But we got there finally; and we seemed to see right away that
he was right about it.

"'Luke,' says I, 'as office deputy and from a law standpoint, it don't
look to me like this place is properly and legally in the jurisdiction
of Mojada County, Texas.'

"'From the standpoint of order,' says he, 'it's amenable to answer
for its sins to the properly appointed authorities from Bildad to
Jerusalem.'

"'Amen,' says I. 'But let's turn our trick sudden, and ride. I don't
like the looks of this place.'

"'Think of Pedro Johnson,' says Luke, 'a friend of mine and yours shot
down by one of these gilded abolitionists at his very door!'

"'It was at the door of the freight depot,' says I. 'But the law will
not be balked at a quibble like that.'

"We put up at one of them big hotels on Broadway. The next morning I
goes down about two miles of stairsteps to the bottom and hunts for
Luke. It ain't no use. It looks like San Ja