I goes out and helps to cut Dirty Shirt loose from the drum, when up comes one of Holt’s kids.
“Mister,” says he to the show feller, “I seen a man tie them cans on your dogs.”
“Give the sheriff a description of him,” says he, excited-like. “I offers ten dollars reward for the conviction of the persons connected with the dastardly outrage.”
“Cheap enough,” agrees Magpie. “Did he have a long mustache and long hair?”
“Naw. He didn’t have no hair on his face a-tall,” replies the kid.
“Must a been an outside job,” proclaims Magpie. “All the men in Piperock wear hair on their faces, except Slim Hawkins, and he wears ink.”
Me and Magpie pilgrims home and uses up a bottle of hoss liniment.
“When yuh going to get that Tombstone person?” I asks, after we finishes our supper. “There ain’t no sense in leaving a critter like him loose, Magpie.”
“He’s a ornery hombre all right, all right,” agrees Magpie. “He ain’t so dangerous as he is plumb mean, Ike. He’s shot at me several times, but as he ain’t hit me yet I reckon he’s trying to scare me. Must ’a’ been Cactus what painted Slim with the ink. Me and Slim are the same build.
“I sure wish that Tombstone could live long enough to read his obituary, Ike. She’s a bird. I sure dug deep into my soul for that stuff, and I surprises myself with what I writes. Them two is sore over the election. They opined to be deputies under Anderson.”