LUKE. Paper what you write on? Never had none, mister.
REVENUE. [Looking about room, sees Jim Dunn's picture on wall, goes to it, takes it down.] If you don't mind, I'll put it on the back of Jim Dunn's picture. [Placing picture on table, begins to print.] I'll print it for you, so it'll be easy to read. My address is here, so if you change your mind you can send for me.
LUKE. 'Tain't likely—come on. [Both go to doorway—Luke extends hand, Revenue takes it.] Good-by, mister—cheer up ... there's the horse.
REVENUE. Good-by. [Shaking Luke's hand.
LUKE. Don't be so glum, mister. Lemme hear you laff jist onct before yu go. [Revenue begins to laugh weakly.] Aw, come on, laff out with it hearty. [Revenue laughs louder.] Heartier yit.
[Revenue is now shouting his laughter, and is heard laughing until hoof-beats of his horse die down in the distance.
[Luke watches for a moment, then returns to table—takes a drink—picks up picture—turns it around several times before getting it right—then begins to study. In attempting to make out the name he slowly traces in the air with his index finger a capital "J"—then mutters "J-J-J," then describes a letter "I"—mutters "I-I-I," then a letter "M"—muttering "M-M-M, J-I-M—J-I-M—JIM." In the same way describes and mutters D-U-N-N.
LUKE. Jim Dunn! By God! [He rushes to corner, grabs shot-gun, runs to doorway, raises gun in direction stranger has gone—looks intently—then slowly lets gun fall to his side, and scans the distance with his hand shadowing his eyes—steps inside—slowly puts gun in corner—seats himself at table.] Jim Dunn!—and he begged me to kill 'im!!