“Chentlemen,” quavered the Jew, sinking down on the bench, “vat is der meaning of dis?”
“You’ll know in a little while,” answered Wild Bill. “If the attorney for the prosecution—or persecution—will state his case, I’ll come back at him with a handful of cold facts. Go on, Bloom.”
“You fellers’ll not make a fool o’ me,” growled the sheriff. “Just get done with your play and mosey out o’ here. That’s all I want o’ you.”
“Then, your honor,” said Wild Bill, bowing to the scout, “I might as well open up my bag of tricks. This Jew, Abraham Isaacs, came to the Circle-B ranch yesterday and had a palaver with Lige and Jerry Benner. Isaacs was piloted out there by Red Steve, as graceless a scoundrel as ever went unhung. Lige selected about thirteen hundred dollars worth of jewelry from that bag of Isaacs’, but said he wouldn’t take the stuff unless Isaacs would help him prove Nate Dunbar a thief. Jerry Benner did most of the talking, and——”
“Lieber Gott,” wailed Isaacs suddenly, slumping down on the floor and hugging Wild Bill about the knees. “Dot iss plendy! Say no more, mein friendt! Say no more!”
Wild Bill kicked the peddler away.
“Get back on your bench,” he ordered sternly, “and don’t butt into my argument. Isaacs agreed to come back to Hackamore, while Dunbar was in town, and put up a howl that he had been robbed. Jerry Benner was also to come to town, get some fake diamonds from Isaacs, and put them in Dunbar’s saddlebags. That’s what happened. Lige Benner and his brother Jerry fixed up this little game, and Abraham Isaacs helped them carry it through. Is that so?” he cried, turning on the Jew. “Answer!”
“Ach, it iss so!” groaned Isaacs. “Vat a miserable mans I vas! I didn’t vant to do dot, aber I lose der sale if I don’t.”
“You admit,” went on Wild Bill, “that you gave those diamonds to Jerry Benner?”
“Yah, so!”