"Shore!" said Walker; "Take a chanct, Kid! When I gits through drapin' him 'round the scenery, I reckon he'll be some picture-squee!" Walker grabbed the bridle of the horse on which Pedro was perched and swung it around broadside to the camera. "Set up there, yo' owdacious varmint, an' look happy an' take yo'r medicine! Look happy, I tell yo'! 'F yo' don't look happy right pronto, I'll let Injun see 'f he kin bend thet there fence-post he's carryin' over yo'r bean!"
Injun moved up nearer and gripped the "fence-post" entirely ready to carry out his part of the program.
"Mebbe yo' better wait a minute, Injun," said Walker, "till we git the pitcher; 't wont do to sp'ile him altogether—yet!" said Walker significantly.
"All set?" asked Walker. "Ef so, shoot!"
Whitey pointed the camera at Pedro and got the proper focus. "Hol' thet pose, yo' spavined coyote!" yelled Walker, at Pedro. "Hol' it, I tell you!' 'F yo' move, an sp'ile this here negative, Injun is gonna bust yo' one! Look right at the box, yo' bashful an' blushin debbytanty! Look at th' box for mamma, an' see th' nice birdie come out!"
Whitey snapped the trigger, and Basset was much relieved to learn that the lens had not cracked. Under Walker's skilful and gentle posing, two or three more pictures were taken, and then Bill Jordan called a halt.
"I guess thet's 'bout 'nuff," he said. "The' ain't no use imposin' on a willin' an' good-natured pitcher-machine."
"All right," said Walker, "when does th' festivities start?" he asked of Jordan. "I claims th' honor of furnishin' th' rope!"
"Well," said Jordan, hesitatingly, "ef we all 'd run 'cross this here maverick's trail out in the open, I reckon the festivities 'd 'a' begun an' finished, right there. An' I certainly has regrets an' apologies 'bout denyin' yo' all th' privilege of takin' a active part in the obsequies touchin' on an' appertainin' to th' kickin' off o' this here polluted skunk. But this here community is committed to the statoots o' Law an' Order, in sech case made an' pervided, as The Good Book says; an' I reckon, as long as them boys went out an' hog-tied this here ulcer onto th' decency an' fair name o' the Sovereign State o' Montana, he'll hev' to be tried by a jury o' his peers—jes' like a respectable murderer would—tho' where they're going to git twelve peers o' this here low-down insec', is more'n I kin onderstand! I guess thet part of it's up to the Sher'ff."
"Try him!" shouted Walker, dashing his hat onto the ground, in amazement and rage; "try him! What in blazes does anybody want t' try him fer? Don't ever'body in sixteen states know 't he'd oughta bin hung ever sence he was two year old? Yo' an' yo'r statoots don't ondertake to try no mad dog, do yo'? Yo' don't go out an' collect no twelve peers to set on a jury 'fore yo're 'lowed to shoot the pizen head off'n him, do yo'? An' ef this bird ain't worse'n a hull kennel o' mad dogs an' a nest o' rattlers throwed in fer good measure, then I'm plumb locoed an' b'long into a padded cell up to the nut-foundry!"