made Texas Pete carry them right along
the trail a quarter, and started him to diggin' a hole.

Texas Pete started in hard enough, Tim sittin' over him on his hoss,
his six-shooter loose, and his rope free. The man and I stood by, not
darin' to say a word. After a minute or so Texas Pete began to work
slower and slower. By and by he stopped.

"Look here," says he, "is this here thing my grave?"

"I am goin' to see that you give the gentleman's hoss decent
interment," says Gentleman Tim very polite.

"Bury a hoss!" growls Texas Pete.

But he didn't say any more. Tim cocked his six-shooter.

"Perhaps you'd better quit panting and sweat a little," says he.

Texas Pete worked hard for a while, for Tim's quietness was beginning
to scare him up the worst way. By and by he had got down maybe four or
five feet, and Tim got off his hoss.

"I think that will do," says he.

"You may come out. Billy, my son, cover him. Now, Mr. Texas Pete," he
says, cold as steel, "there is the grave. We will place the hoss in
it. Then I intend to shoot you and put you in with the hoss, and write
you an epitaph that will be a comfort to such travellers of the Trail
as are honest, and a warnin' to such as are not. I'd as soon kill you
now as an hour from now, so you may make a break for it if you feel
like it."

He stooped over to look into the hole. I thought he looked an extra
long time, but when he raised his head his face had changed complete.

"March!" says he very brisk.

We all went back to the shack. From the corral Tim took Texas Pete's
best team and hitched her to the old schooner.

"There," says he to the man. "Now you'd better hit the trail. Take
that whisky keg there for water. Good-bye."

We sat there without sayin' a word for some time after the schooner had
pulled out. Then Tim says, very abrupt:

"I've changed my mind."

He got up.

"Come on, Billy," says he to me. "We'll just leave our friend tied up.
I'll be back to-morrow to turn you loose. In the meantime it won't
hurt you a bit to be a little uncomfortable, and hungry--and thirsty."

We rode off just about sundown, leavin' Texas Pete lashed tight.

Now all this knocked me hell-west and crooked, and I said so, but I
couldn't get a word out of Gentleman Tim. All the answer I could get
was just little laughs.

We drawed into the ranch near midnight, but next mornin' Tim had a long
talk with the boss, and the result was that the whole ou