“Twenty dollars fifty cents,” interposed the judge, “which I paid him for catching mustangs and shooting game.”
The men nodded.
“And then, because he wouldn’t play, you shot him?” asked the same deep-toned voice as before.
“No—some hours after—by the Jacinto—near the Patriarch—met him down there, and killed him.”
“Thought there was something out o’ the common thereaway,” said one of the jury; “for as we rode by the tree a whole nation of kites and turkey buzzards flew out. Didn’t they, Mr Heart?”
Mr Heart nodded.
“Met him by the river, and wanted halves of his money,” continued Bob mechanically. “He said he’d give me something to buy a quid, and more than enough for that, but not halves. ‘I’ve wife and child,’ said he——”
“And you?” asked the juror with the deep voice, which, this time, had a hollow sound in it.
“Shot him down,” said Bob, with a wild, hoarse laugh.