"'It is a man that lives in a 'dobe house, just outside the town
there,' says I.
"'Well, where do you come from yourself?' said he.
"'From Medory,' said I.
"With that he lost interest and settled kind o' back, and says he,
'There won't no Cedartown jury hang a Cedartown man for stealin' a
Medory man's horse,' said he.
"'Well, what am I to do about my horse?' says I.
"'Do?' says he; 'well, you know where the man lives, don't you?' says
he; 'then sit up outside his house, to-night and shoot him when he comes
in,' says he, 'and skip out with the horse.'
"'All right,' says I, 'that is what I'll do,' and I walked off.
"So I went off to his house and I laid down behind some sage-brushes to
wait for him. He was not at home, but I could see his wife movin' about
inside now and then, and I waited and waited, and it growed darker, and
I begun to say to myself, 'Now here you are lyin' out to shoot this man
when he comes home; and it's getting' dark, and you don't know him, and
if you do shoot the next man that comes into that house, like as not it
won't be the fellow you're after at all, but some perfectly innocent man
a-comin' there after the other man's wife!'
"So I up and saddled the bronc' and lit out for home," concluded the
narrator with the air of one justly proud of his own self-abnegating
virtue.
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