'" The cowpuncher paused, referred to his
bottle, and continued: "It's just like I told you before. There can't
no one's election get predjudiced by hangin' you, an' they've made a
kind of issue out of it. There's four candidates for sheriff this fall
an' folks has kind of let it be known, sub rosy, that the one that
brings you in, gathers the votes. In the absence of any corpse
delecti, which in this case means yourn, folks refuses to assume you
was hung, so each one of them four candidates is right now scouring the
country with a posse. All this he imparts to me while he was throwin'
that outfit of clothes together an' further he adds that I'm under
suspicion for aidin' an' abettin', an' that means life with hard labour
if I'm caught with the goods--an', Win, you're the goods. Therefore,
you'll confer a favour on me by not getting caught, an' incidentally
save yourself a hangin'. Once we get into the bad lands we're all to
the good, but even then you've got to keep shy of folks. Duck out of
sight when you first see any one. Don't have nothin' to say to no one
under no circumstances. If you do chance onto someone where you can't
do nothin' else you'll have to lie to 'em. Personal, I don't favour
lyin' only as a last resort, an' then in moderation. Of course, down
in the bad lands, most of the folks will be on the run like we are, an'
not no more anxious for to hold a caucus than us.
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