“Which one of us is the nearest size to Bud Fisher?” asked the Friar.
They all agreed that Spider Kelley was; so the Friar had him coon up on the ledge. Then he had Olaf take the empty rifle just as he had held it when he passed it up; but made him give it to Badger-face himself to pass up. Badger-face passed it up, Spider Kelley reached for it, took it, and started to straighten up—The hammer caught on the precise knob that Olaf had said it had, an’ snapped hard enough to set off a cartridge. “There,” sez the Friar, sweepin’ his hands wide. We could all see that the bullet would ’a’ gone through just where it did go.
“Hand back the rifle, an’ I’ll show ya how he passed it up,” said Badger-face. Spider passed it down, an’ we all watched intent. It had become like a real court o’ law; we had forgot what the case was about, we was so interested in seein’ the scrap the lawyers were puttin’ up.
Badger-face cocked the rifle so slick we didn’t see him, called out to Spider to catch it, an’ tossed it up to him. It came just short o’ Spider’s hand; and without thinkin’ o’ what he was doin’, Spider reached for the gun. This brought him squattin’ just the time the gun dropped back into Badger’s hands, and quick as a wink, he pulled the trigger—and hanged if that bullet wouldn’t have traveled through the same hole the first one had made.
I never saw circumstantial evidence give such a work-out before. If we had all been fair-minded, it would have puzzled us; but as it was, we sided accordin’ to our prejudices; an’ the Cross brand fellers chose Badger-face to Olaf, Badger-face bein’ foreman. The Friar saw he was stumped.
“Are there any marks up there?” he asked of Spider.
“There’s some blood streaks on a stone,” sez Spider.
“Did you notice ’em?” asked the Friar of Badger-face.
“Yes,” sez he; “but they don’t mean nothin’.”
“Let’s go up an’ look at ’em,” sez the Friar, so we all clumb up.