"Yuh can't convict a man on that," replied the ranchman with a forced laugh.
"No?" The Kid drawled. "Well, that isn't all. The man who fired the death shot used a very peculiah revolvah—very peculiar. The caliber was .45. Wait a moment—a .45 with unusual riflin'."
"Yo're crazy," said Goliday, but his face was pale.
"By examinin' the cahtridge," continued the Texan in a dangerous voice, "I found that the fatal gun had five grooves and five lands. The usual six-shootah has six grooves and six lands. Let me see yo' gun, sah!"
The command came like a whip-crack and little drops of perspiration stood out suddenly on Goliday's ashen forehead.
"It's a lie," he stammered. "I——"
"Yo' had bettah confess, Goliday. The game's up. Majah Stovah died early this mohnin' from heart trouble. Goliday, yo' can do just two things. The choice is up to yo'.'"
"The choice?" repeated the rancher mechanically.
"Yes, yo' can surrendah—and in that case, I'll turn yo' ovah to the nearest law, if it's a thousand miles away. Or—yo' can shoot it out with me heah and now. It's up to yo'."
"Yuh wanted to see my gun," said Goliday, with a sudden, deadly laugh.
"All right, I'll show yuh what's in it!"