BLANCO. You have a right to your horse, Sheriff; and if I could put you in the way of getting it back, I would. But if I had that horse I shouldn’t be here. As I hope to be saved, Sheriff—or rather as I hope to be damned; for I have no taste for pious company and no talent for playing the harp—I know no more of that horse’s whereabouts than you do yourself.
STRAPPER. Who did you trade him to?
BLANCO. I did not trade him. I got nothing for him or by him. I stand here with a rope round my neck for the want of him. When you took me, did I fight like a thief or run like a thief; and was there any sign of a horse on me or near me?
STRAPPER. You were looking at a rainbow, like a damned silly fool instead of keeping your wits about you; and we stole up on you and had you tight before you could draw a bead on us.
THE SHERIFF. That don’t sound like good sense. What would he look at a rainbow for?
BLANCO. I’ll tell you, Sheriff. I was looking at it because there was something written on it.
SHERIFF. How do you mean written on it?
BLANCO. The words were, “Ive got the cinch on you this time, Blanco Posnet.” Yes, Sheriff, I saw those words in green on the red streak of the rainbow; and as I saw them I felt Strapper’s grab on my arm and Squinty’s on my pistol.
THE FOREMAN. He’s shammin mad: thats what he is. Aint it about time to give a verdict and have a bit of fun, Sheriff?
THE BOYS. Yes, lets have a verdict. We’re wasting the whole afternoon. Cut it short.