"You lie, three times! Only one shot was fired and that from your own pistol. Here it is! Case never had it, for all you swore to it."
"Muñoz saw him—shoot!"
"That so, Muñoz? Come out here!" and a deputy collared and thrust him forth.
"Si; Case," answered Muñoz miserably.
And then at last the dago broke bounds. All the pent-up hatred of the months boiled over in his heart. All the fear vanished in presence of these supporters and at sight of these now abject bullies. Out he sprang, all vehement denunciation:
"Lie!" said he—"damn lie! Muñoz hit!—Sanchez shoot! All try kill. Then run—run, for soldiers come!"
It was then that Lieutenant Willett stepped forward and interposed.
"Mr. Sheriff," said he, "whatever my earlier opinion on the subject, I know more now. I know it was not 'Tonio. I believe it was not this—this gentleman—Mr. Case. If you will favor me a moment I can make it clear to you, but"—and here the heavily lashed, mournful brown eyes sought the group of Mexicans—"I should hold—those fellows."
And so, once more within the little office, Willett briefly told his tale. There were present Wickham, Bright and Harris, the sheriff and one deputy. "I should be glad to have you call in Mr. Case," said he. So Case was summoned and came and took a chair by the chimney and bowed his head upon his hands.
"There had been a card transaction," said Willett. "I owed Mr. Case three hundred dollars, and he or his friends thought I was going to leave without settling. He sent me a note saying he wished to see me. It was midnight before I could go down. He had left the office, but hailed me from the window of Craney's shack. We met near the ford, had words, and I struck him—struck him twice, knocking him down, and then his friends, or followers, as I supposed, pitched upon me. I surely saw one Indian, and, knowing 'Tonio's—grievance, and being warned against him, that was the last idea I had, as I was knocked senseless. Mr. Sheriff, I refuse to enter any complaint against Mr. Case. He is—entirely blameless."