The Sheriff of Badger

ide of his shirt bosom. Before he could draw, Walton pulled on him once. This much I saw and then dived under the table. There came another shot. Bud

, but his hand shook so that the bullets tore splinters in the boarding at either side of W

ff ran in. "You see, I've done

ver. Walton was shot through the forehead and

the surrender of Jeff's gun, which was given up

d three,

the other, his gaz

. He scratched his head. Thomas turned to the bar. His nostrils wer

drink,"

imself flat, and the Fashion filled with men. They grouped

rrest, Jeff," s

ur

emen, please. The inquest'll be to-morrow morning over in Bob Turne

rds three men bore the remains of Walton out of the Fashion and laid them in an empty roo

much jostling and frantic efforts at peering over the heads of neighbors; also, requests to witn

d was monkeying with his fingers on the table-sort of playing tunes. He, the bartender, was reading a letter from a lady who lived in Silver City-a right nice, respectable lady-when Bud came in on the jump. He yelled something at Jeff and they took to shooting.

e could not say how many. Then, when the sheriff came back, he saw B

it was the man whose body lay upstairs-and yelled at Thomas that he had got him now. Thomas was alone at a table in the center of the room. He was strumming with his

e to the sheriff in the Fashion. The message was th

quested the survivor for

ton appeared at the door. He pulled a gun on him. Bud got the first shot in-he was positive of that. He fired once and

Tom Rooker, too. Tom wouldn't never harm a fly in his life. Only the day before, Bud had told some men Jeff knew, that he would get T

id you expect h

perceptibly. "Yes

made

e might be coming. I'd ra

ere did Walt

said the

ut a Bible. The crowd craned their

mine," the

d when it was opened; but the leather binding was ripped and torn, and the leaves were plowed into pulp for three-fourths of its th

e did you get

er looked ra

"and when I seen that in your office the

the court-room and b

ve killed six

nly four," Thomas correct

, "this hits me like so plain a case of shooting in self-defense,

id. "Hold on, there; I'd

like this: "Gentlemen, this was

as turned on him a quick, startled glance. Then

hat I done s

ing laughter. "Order!" the coroner cried.

muttered, half aloud, as though not al

Take a look at it. It's a .45. Bud, he was killed with a 30-30 rifle. Here's the bullet. Je