"It was Fancy Farnsworth."
"I guess you're on, Bud. But Mr. Farnsworth asked me to keep it dark, and, as it is Christmas, I consented to do so. Remember, this is the time for brotherly love and peace toward all men. It wasn't much to do, and I invented the name of Dickson for him myself. What's the matter?"
"Oh, nothin', if yer like ter bring cattle like that ter our Chrismus festivities. Fer me, I wouldn't."
"I guess he's not as bad as that."
"He's worse."
"Explain."
"Well, if yer don't know, I will, an' let yer chew on it, an' see if yer want ter take any chances on him. Now, Farnsworth ain't his real name, neither. D'y'ever hear tell o' ther Somber Pass massacree, where a tenderfoot immigrant named Spooner an' his family was killed, an' their wagons an' horses, an' a pile o' money what Spooner had brought with him ter start a cattle ranch an' buy stock with, wuz taken? D'y'ever hear tell o' that?"
"Sure. It's part of the history of the Territory."
"D'y'ever hear any suspicions cast upon nobody?"
"I never did. That is, I never heard any one specifically charged with the crime. Did you?"