ens of the town of Bildad, Texas, Your Honor. And in so doing
laid himself liable to the penitence of law and order. And I hereby
make claim and demand restitution of the State of New York City for
the said alleged criminal; and I know he done it.'

"'Have you the usual and necessary requisition papers from the
governor of your state?' asks the judge.

"'My usual papers,' says Luke, 'was taken away from me at the hotel by
these gentlemen who represent law and order in your city. They was two
Colt's .45's that I've packed for nine years; and if I don't get 'em
back, there'll be more trouble. You can ask anybody in Mojada County
about Luke Summers. I don't usually need any other kind of papers for
what I do.'

"I see the judge looks mad, so I steps up and says:

"'Your Honor, the aforesaid defendant, Mr. Luke Summers, sheriff of
Mojada County, Texas, is as fine a man as ever threw a rope or upheld
the statutes and codicils of the greatest state in the Union. But
he--'

"The judge hits his table with a wooden hammer and asks who I am.

"Bud Oakley,' says I. 'Office deputy of the sheriff's office of Mojada
County, Texas. Representing,' says I, 'the Law. Luke Summers,' I
goes on, 'represents Order. And if Your Honor will give me about ten
minutes in private talk, I'll explain the whole thing to you, and show
you the equitable and legal requisition papers which I carry in my
pocket.'

"The judge kind of half smiles and says he will talk with me in
his private room. In there I put the whole thing up to him in such
language as I had, and when we goes outside, he announces the
verdict that the young man is delivered into the hands of the Texas
authorities; and calls the next case.

"Skipping over much of what happened on the way back, I'll tell you
how the thing wound up in Bildad.

"When we got the prisoner in the sheriff's office, I says to Luke:

"'You, remember that kid of yours--that two-year old that they stole
away from you when the bust-up come?'

"Luke looks black and angry. He'd never let anybody talk to him about
that business, and he never mentioned it himself.

"'Toe the mark,' says I. 'Do you remember when he was toddling around
on the porch and fell down on a pair of Mexican spurs and cut four
little holes over his right eye? Look at the prisoner,' says I, 'look
at his nose and the shape of his head and--why, you old fool, don't
you know your own son?--I knew him,' says I, 'when he perforated Mr.
J