because Hart's nephew--who
knowed German and was a pill--hadn't no more sense'n to tell old man
Bouquet, coming back to town, what the words meant; and that started old
man Bouquet off so--the war not being long over, and his side
downed--that it took two of us, holding him by his arms and legs, to keep
him from trying to fight both the Elbogens at once. Being good-natured
young fellows, the Elbogens didn't take offence, but behaved like
perfect gentlemen--telling old man Bouquet they didn't mean to hurt
his feelings, and was sorry if they had--and it ended up well by their
having drinks together at the Forest Queen. All that, though, has no
real bearing on the story. It happened along later in the day.

Before the train got in, to save time, a rope had been rigged for
Santa Fe over the cross-bar of the usual telegraph-pole--and Cherry,
who knowed how to manage better'n most, had seen to it the rope was
well soaped so as to run smooth. Cherry said he'd knowed things go
real annoying, sometimes, when the soap had been forgot. Santa Fe
looked well. He'd had a good brush up--and he needed it, after being
tied fast to the safe for three days and sleeping in a blanket on the
express-office floor--and he'd put on a clean shirt, and blacked his
boots, and had a shave. He always was a tidy sort of a man.

When the train pulled in, being on time for a wonder, some fellows
from Chamita and the Embudo--come to see the doings--got out from the
day-coach and shook hands; and the Denver undertaker got out from the
express-car and helped the messenger unload the fixings he'd brought
for poor old Bill. Everybody stood around quiet like, and as serious
as you please. You might have thought it was a Sunday morning back in
the States.

Except now and then a drummer--bound for Santa Fe on Hill's
coach--nobody much ever come to Palomitas on the Pullman; and so there
was something of a stir-up when the Pullman conductor helped a lady
out of the car--landing her close to where Charley in his clean shirt
and handcuffs on was standing between two members of the Committee
holding guns. She was a fine-shaped woman, but looked oldish--as well
as you could see for the veil she had on--having a sad pale face a
good deal wrinkled and a bunch of gray hair. She was dressed in measly
old black clothes, and had an old black shawl on, and looked poor.

Getting out into that crowd of men seemed to rattle her, and she
didn't for a minute look at nobody.