for I do admire free speech. I want to address you reasonable, and
make this plain and simple, as only a man that has been alleged to
be something of an orator can accomplish. My men and me has had our
conference, and it's decided that both of you has got to be shot,
and immediate. The reasons is none but what a sensible man must
admit, and such I take you to be. I am sorry this has happened, and
so is my men, and we wish you well. It's a hard saying, pard, but
whatever your intentions, a spy you have proved. For what do you
find on busting open our door? Here we sit playing with our booty
for stakes, and our Indian togs lying all about. You couldn't help
knowing that we was the 'Indians' that gutted them wagons and put
up the fight that left every man and woman dead on the field except
that there last wagon you are telling us about. You might wish you
didn't know the same, but once knowed, we ain't going to let you
loose. As to that wagon you claim to have stole away from under our
very noses--"

A skeptical laugh burst from the listeners.

Gledware eagerly declared that if he had the remotest idea in what
direction it had been left, he would be glad to lead them to the
spot. He could describe it and its contents--

"You see, pard," Red Kimball interposed, "you are everlasting losing
sight of the point. This here is 1880, which I may say is a recent
date. Time was when a fellow could live in Cimarron, and come and
go free and no questions asked--and none answered. But civilization
is a-pressing us hard, and these days is not our fathers' days. We
are pretty independent even yet in old Cimarron, but busybodies has
got together trying to make it a regular United States territory,