to take a shot at a mouse--the bullet hole, an' doubtless
his dried-up remains can be seen yonder against the base-board an'
constitutes Exhibit A----"

"Well, I'll be damned!" exclaimed Shorty, his china blue eyes round with
excitement, "I know'd I'd saw you before!"

"Me, too, we was settin' there playin'----"

Again the six-gun rapped on the bar: "You, Green Vest, you're fined a
round of drinks for contempt of court. An' Shorty, you're fined two
rounds. Not that there's any doubt about your first statement, but this
here _profanus vulgus_ business has got to be cut out." Depositing three
more matches beside the first upon the bar, the Texan proceeded:
"Shortly thereafter, an' right in the middle of my remarks the said
barkeep disembarked in tumultuous haste, like he'd be'n sent for an' had
to go. I waited around a spell an' not favorin' this spot for a
permanent abode, I laid a five dollar gold piece on the bar, an' rode
off. Therefore, gentlemen of the jury, it's plain to see that I've got
four dollars comin', as an offset to which the present specimen, here,
has got a just an' valid claim fer two rounds of drinks to the total
value of two dollars an' four bits, leavin' a dollar an' four bits still
owin' to me. The case is now closed, owin' to any testimony the
defendant, here, might introduce, would be mere hearsay an' therefore
irrelevant an' immaterial, he havin' admitted he wasn't here at the
time. Now, gentlemen of the jury, what's your verdict?"

Thus appealed to the four gathered at the end of the bar and held
whispered conversation, Shorty glancing furtively the while at the gun
in the Texan's hand.

Presently, mouthing a corner of his moustache, Ike Stork spoke: "It's
the ondivided opinion of the jury, except Shorty disagreein' fer fear
he'll git shot, that this here party behind the bar's name ain't John
Doe, which it's Pete Barras same as before, an' likewise he's got two
dollars an' four bits comin' from you fer the drinks. Them four dollars
of yourn is comin' from Sam Barras, which he's runnin' a saloon over to
Zortman."

The Texan produced another match and laid it beside the others upon the
bar: "You're fined a round of drinks for misnomer of the defendant," he
announced, gravely. "An' seein' the jury is hung--why it ain't be'n hung
long ago is surprisin' to me--you're discharged--bob-tailed discharge,
as they'd say in the army which carries with it a recommendation that
you're a bunch of ineb