"Tell the story? Thar's nothin' much to said yarn, only the
onpreecedented leeniency wherewith we winds it up. In the first
place, I don't know what this hoss-thief's name is, for he's plum
deef an' dumb, an' ain't sayin' a word. I sees him hoverin' 'round,
but I don't say nothin' to him. I observes him once or twice write
things to folks he has to talk with on a piece of paper, but it's
too slow a racket for me, too much like conversin' by freight that
a-way, an' I declines to stand in on it. I don't like to write well
enough to go openin' a correspondence with strangers who's deef an'
dumb.

"When he first dawns on the camp, he has money, moderate at least,
an' he gets in on poker, an' stud, an' other devices which is open
an' common; an' gents who's with him at the time says he has a level
notion of hands, an' in the long run, mebby, amasses a little
wealth.

"While I ain't payin' much heed to him, I do hear towards the last
of his stay as how he goes broke ag'inst faro-bank. But as gents
often goes broke ag'inst faro-bank, an' as, in trooth, I tastes sech
reverses once or twice myse'f, the information don't excite me none
at the time, nor later on.

"It's mighty likely some little space since this dumb person hits
camp, an' thar's an outfit of us ramblin' 'round in the Red Light,
which, so to speak, is the Wolfville Club, an' killin' time by
talkin'. Dave Tutt an' Texas Thompson is holdin' forth at each other
on the efficacy of pray'r, an' the balance of us is bein' edified.

"It looks like Texas has been tellin' of a Mexican he sees lynched