One morning he reepairs to the calaboose to consult with the felons on whose interests he's ridin' herd.

Horror seizes him; he finds the cells as vacant as a echo.
"'"Where's these clients ?" asks Easy Aaron, while his face grows white.
"'"Vamosed!" says the Mexican who carries the calaboose keys; an' with that he turns in mighty composed, to roll a cigarette.
"'"Vamoosed, where at ?" pursoos Easy Aaron.
"'"_Por el inferno_!" says the Mexican; he's got his cigarette lighted, an' is puffin' as contented as hoss-thieves.

"See thar, _Amigo_!" goes on the Greaser, indicatin' down the street.
"'Easy Aaron gazes where the Mexican p'ints, an' his heart turns to water.

Thar swayin' an' swingin' like tassels in the mornin' breeze, an' each as dead as Gen'ral Taylor, he beholds his entire docket hangin' to the windmill.

Easy Aaron approaches an' counts 'em up.
Which they're all thar! The Stranglers shorely makes a house cleanin'.
As Easy Aaron looks upon them late clients, he wrings his hands.
"'"Thar hangs fame!" says Easy Aaron; "thar hangs my chance of eminence! That eloquence, wherewith my heart is freighted, an' which would have else declar'd me the Erskine of the Brazos, is lynched with my clients." Then wheelin' on Waco Anderson who strolls over, Easy Aaron demands plenty f'rocious: "Whoever does this dastard deed ?" "'"Which this agitated sport," observes Waco coldly to Shoestring Griffith, who comes loungin' up likewise, "asks whoever does these yere dastard deeds! Does you-all recall the fate, Shoestring, of the last misguided shorthorn who gives way to sech a query?
My mem'ry is never ackerate as to trifles, an' I'm confoosed about whether he's shot or hung or simply burned alive." "'"That prairie dog is hanged a lot," says Shoestring.