"Yes, sir! I paid him twenty-five dollars for the cow and five dollars for the first calf."
"What were the brand and markings of this cow at the time you bought her?"
"She had a Mexican brand, like an Injun arrer struck by lightning, on her left hip, a big window or ventano in the left ear, and a slash and underbit in the right. Garcia vented his brand on her shoulder and I run a Monkey-wrench—that's my regular, registered brand—on her ribs, but I never changed her ear marks because I kept her for a milk cow anyway."
"Your Honor," interposed Kilkenny, rising with a bored air to his feet, "I object to this testimony on the ground that it is irrelevant, incompetent, and immaterial. I fail to see the relation of this hypothetical milk cow to the question before the court."
"The cow in question was the mother of the calf which my client is accused of stealing!" cried Angy, panting with excitement as he saw the moment of his triumph approaching. "She was sold to the defendant and he had a legal right to her offspring. Can a man steal his own property, Your Honor? Most assuredly not! I wish to produce that cow in evidence and I will bring competent witnesses to prove that she belongs by rights to Pecos Dalhart. Bring in the exhibit, Mr. Todhunter!"
He waved his hand toward the side door and as Kilkenny saw the coup which had been sprung on him he burst into a storm of protest. "I object, Your Honor!" he shouted, "I object!"
"Objection overruled!" pronounced the judge. "Let the cow be brought in as quickly as possible and after the examination of the exhibit we will proceed at once to the argument."
He paused, and as the crowd that blocked the side door gave way before the bailiffs, Old Funny-face was dragged unwillingly into court and led to the sand boat to join her calf. At the first sight of her dun-colored face and spotted neck every man in the jury-box looked at his neighbor knowingly. They were cowmen, every one of them used to picking out mothers by hair-marks in the corral cut, and Old Funny-face was a dead ringer for her calf. Even to the red blotch across his dun face the calf was the same, and when Funny-face indignantly repulsed its advances they were not deceived, for a cow soon forgets her offspring, once it is taken away. But most of all their trained eyes dwelt upon the mangled ears, the deep swallow fork in the left and the short crop in the right, and the record of the brands on her side. There was the broken arrow, just as Pecos had described it, and the vent mark on the shoulder. It would take some pretty stiff swearing to make them believe that that Spectacle brand on her ribs had not been burnt over a Monkey-wrench. It was Angy's inning now, and with a flourish he called Pecos to the stand and had him identify his cow; but when he called José Garcia, and José, gazing trustfully into Angy's eyes, testified that she was his old milk cow and he had, sin duda, sold her to Pecos Dalhart for twenty-five dollars, the self-composed Kilkenny began to rave with questions, while Crittenden broke into a cold sweat. Not only was the case going against him, but it threatened to leave him in the toils. It was too late to stop Garcia now—he had said his say and gone into a sullen silence—there was nothing for it but to swear, and swear hard. Kilkenny was on his toes, swinging his clenched fist into the hollow of his hand and raging at the witness, when Crittenden suddenly dragged him down by the coat-tails and began to whisper into his ear. Instantly the district attorney was all attention; he asked a question, and then another; nodded, and addressed the court.
"Your Honor," he said, "I will excuse the witness and ask to call others in rebuttal. Will you take the chair, Mr. Crittenden!"
Old Crit advanced to the stand and faced the court-room, a savage gleam in his eye.