He didn't hit nothin', and I reckon he was dead before he hit the ground.
And there he had my gun, and I was about as useless as a pocket in a shirt! No, sir, you can talk as much as you please, but the killer is a low-down ornery scub, and he don't hesitate at no treachery or ingratitude to keep his carcass safe.
Jed Parker ceased talking.

The dusk had fallen in the little room, and dimly could be seen the recumbent figures lying at ease on their blankets.

The ranch foreman was sitting bolt upright, cross-legged.

A faint glow from his pipe barely distinguished his features.
"What became of the rustlers ?" I asked him.
"Well, sir, that is the queer part.

Hahn himself, who had done the killin', skipped out.