One man, more excited than the rest, now began handling his pistol, saying to John, meanwhile,
“Long John, you had better prepare for another world.” What more he might have said, or what done, it is easy to conceive, had he not been interrupted by the leader, who, stepping forward, remarked,
“This won’t do. If there is anything to be done, let us all be together.”
Long John was then taken aside by three of the company, who sat down in the faint morning light to examine him. Just as they were seated, they saw through the haze at no great distance, “Black Bess,” the mule which Tiebalt rode from Nevada when he started for Dempsey’s. She seemed to be there at this opportune moment as a dumb witness to the assassination of her master. Pointing to the animal, one of the men inquired,
“John, whose mule is that?”
“That’s the mule that Tiebalt rode down here,” he answered.
“John,” was the reply, “you know whose mule that is. Things look dark for you. You had better be thinking of your condition now.”
“I am innocent,” murmured John.
The mule was caught and led up to him. “Where are the other two mules?” was the next inquiry.
“I do not know,” he replied.