"That, gentlemen, is the statement made to me by Texas Bill, who
now lies dead in Pete's Place as a result of the wound inflicted by
Allen."

"That's a lot of swearing for a man to do that's been shot through the
lungs," commented Bill Wilson skeptically.

The Captain gave him a malevolent look and continued. "We will ask
Mr. Swift to come forward and tell us what he knows of this deplorable
and, if I may be permitted the term, disgraceful affair."

Mr. Swift edged his way carefully through the crowd with his left arm
thrust out to protect the right, which was bandaged and rested in a
blood-stained sling. He asked permission to sit down; kicked a box
into the small, open space between the Captain, the jury, and the
prisoners, and seated himself with the air of a man about to perform
an extremely painful duty.

"Hold up your right hand," commanded the Captain.

Swift apologetically raised his left hand and gazed steadfastly into
the cold, impartial eyes of his Captain.

"You swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth, so-help-you-God?"

Swift, his purplish eyes wide and clear and honest as the gaze of a
baby, calmly affirmed that he did.