Jack grinned and lazily fanned the smoke of his cigarette away, so
that he might the better gaze upon this man who was about to tell
the whole truth and nothing else. He caught Swift's eye and added
a sneering lift to the smile; and Swift's eyes changed from bland
innocence to hate triumphant.

"Mr. Swift, you will now relate to us the circumstances of this
affair, truthfully, in the order of their happening," directed the
deep voice of the Captain.

Mr. Swift carefully eased his wounded arm in its sling, turned his
innocent gaze upon the crowd, and began:

"Texas, Rawhide, and myself were crossing the sandy stretch south of
town about noon, when we met this chap--the stranger there." He nodded
slightly toward the boy. "I was walking behind the other two, but I
heard Rawhide say: 'Hello, son, any luck in the diggin's?' The kid
said: 'None of your damn business!' That made Rawhide kinda mad, being
spoke to that way when he just meant to be friendly, and he told the
kid he better keep a civil tongue in his head if he wanted to get
along smooth--or words to that effect. I don't," explained Mr. Swift
virtuously, "remember the exact words, because I was looking at the
fellow and wondering what made him so surly. He sassed Rawhide again,
and told him to mind his own business and give advice when it was
asked for, and struck at him. Rawhide hit back, and then I heard a
shot, and Rawhide fell over. I looked around quick, and started
to pull my gun, but a bullet hit me here--" Mr. Swift laid gentle
finger-tips upon his arm near the shoulder--"so I couldn't. I saw it
was Jack Allen shooting and coming towards us from a clump of bushes
off to the right of us. He shot again, and Texas Bill fell. I ducked