“It’ll give me more pleasure than to own it myself.”
“Are you sure you don’t want it?”
“Of course, I want it. I wouldn’t give it to you if I didn’t. It’s my greatest joy to give people things I want myself. That’s how I show them how much I care for them. I may never have a better chance to show you how glad I am that I came to know you.”
Mr. Cook was silent for a moment. Then, with a little huskiness in his voice, he said:
“That’s more to me than the ring, and that’s saying a good deal. I’m goin’ to take it. I won’t thank you. I’ll just say, for what you’ve said, I’m glad. I hope I deserve it.”
At noon the next day, in the corral back of the Company office, six sworn citizens of Bluff met and held formal inquest on the blanket-covered body of Mike Hassell. Perhaps a hundred men were present—all standing. Joe Ullmacher identified the body, and added, without being questioned and at some length, that the deceased had stolen six twenty-dollar gold pieces from his bar till.
“Hyar they air,” exclaimed Marshal Wooley tersely at the end of the witness’ harangue. “I got ’em outten his belt.”
Roy was then called as a witness. The formality of swearing him was not observed. At Mr. Cook’s suggestion, the boy told truthfully and in detail what had taken place. At the end of his testimony the jury stepped aside and almost immediately reached a verdict. The postmaster, Al Christian, was foreman. Mr. Christian removed his hat, cleared his throat and faced the crowd. Moved by his example, many of those present also solemnly removed their hats.
“We, the jury settin’ on the case o’ Mike Hassell, now layin’ dead afore us, hevin’ heard the evidence an’ duly considered it, hev reached the followin’ verdic’, to wit: That the deceased kem to his death at the hands o’ our respected citizen Colonel R. C. Cook, which same was justifiable suicide—”