One evening the report spread along the main street (which was the only street) that three men had been killed at Silver Reef and that the bodies were coming in. Presently a lumbering old conveyance labored up the hill, drawn by a couple of horses well worn out with their pull. The cart contained a good-sized box, and no sooner did its outlines become visible, through the glimmer of a stray light, than it began to affect the idlers.
Death always enforces respect, and even though no one had caught sight of the remains, the crowd gradually became subdued, and when the horses came to a standstill the cart was immediately surrounded. The driver, however, was not in the least impressed with the solemnity of his commission.
"All there?" asked one.
"Haven't examined. Guess so."
The driver filled his pipe and lighted it as he continued:
"Wish the bones and load had gone over the grade!"
A man who had been looking on stepped up to the teamster at once.
"I don't know who you have in that box, but if they happen to be any friends of mine I'll lay you alongside."
"We can mighty soon see," said the teamster coolly. "Just burst the lid off, and if they happen to be the men you want, I'm here."
The two looked at each other for a moment, and then the crowd gathered a little closer, anticipating trouble.