It was a new thing then, an they was the only ones in town.

These come to me, and 'Simpson,' says they, 'we want to borrow your guns; we are goin' to kill Fowler.' "'Hold on for a moment,' said I, 'I am willin' to lend you them guns, but I ain't goin' to know what you 'r' goin' to do with them, no sir; but of course you can have the guns.'" Here my friend's face lightened pleasantly, and he continued: "Well, you may easily believe I felt surprised next day when Fowler come ridin' in, and, says he, 'Simpson, here's your guns!' He had shot them two men! 'Well, Fowler,' says I, 'if I had known them men was after you, I'd never have let them have them guns nohow,' says I.That wasn't true, for I did know it, but there was no cause to tell him that." I murmured my approval of such prudence, and Simpson continued, his eyes gradually brightening with the light of agreeable reminiscence: "Well, they up and they took Fowler before the justice of the peace.

The justice of the peace was a Turk." "Now, Simpson, what do you mean by that ?" I interrupted: "Well, he come from Turkey," said Simpson, and I again sank back, wondering briefly what particular variety of Mediterranean outcast had drifted down to New Mexico to be made a justice of the peace.

Simpson laughed and continued: "That Fowler was a funny fellow.

The Turk, he committed Fowler, and Fowler, he riz up and knocked him down and tromped all over him and made him let him go!" "That was an appeal to a higher law," I observed.