I looked at the man with the noose about his neck, an’ he was grinnin’ as easy an’ comfortable as I ever saw a man grin in my life. He was wearin’ a vest without buttons an’ a gray flannel shirt. He had a rifle on his saddle an’ a sixshooter on his right hip. He had big gray eyes set wide apart under heavy brows, an’ they were dancin’ with laughter. I grinned into ’em without intendin’ to, an’ sez: “Well, I don’t really think he charmed these loose ponies intentional. Me an’ Spider was takin’ ’em in to the Diamond Dot an’ we had a hard time makin’ ’em ford the crick. I’m some thankful to him for tollin’ ’em up the pass.” Badger-face scowled. “Well, anyhow, he charmed the beast he’s ridin, all right; an’ he has to swing for it.” “Are you all done with tryin’ him,” sez I. “What’s the use of a trial?” snarled Badger-face. “Ain’t he ridin’ a Cross brand hoss, ain’t the brand unvented, don’t every one know that we never sell a hoss without ventin’ the brand, an’ can’t any one see ’at this hoss was never rode before?” “Got anything to say for yourself, stranger?” I asked. “Not much,” sez the prisoner. “I have an appointment to keep at Laramie; my hoss gave out; so I just caught a fresh one an’ started on.” “What more do you want?” asked Badger-face of me. “Well, now, the’ ain’t any particular hurry; an’ I’m kind o’ curious to learn a little more of his methods,” sez I impartial. “Don’t ya know ’at this is what they call hoss-stealin’ out this way?” I asked of the stranger. “No, this is not stealin’,” he replied. “I turned another hoss loose that I had picked up a hundred miles or so farther back; and I should have turned this one adrift as soon as he had tired. They allus wander back to their own range.” This wasn’t no unheard-of custom to practice out our way; but it was a new sort o’ defence for a man with a noose about his neck to put up, an’ I see that some o’ the others was gettin’ interested. The big man had a smile like a boy, an’ steady eyes, an’ a clear skin; an’ he didn’t look at all the kind of a man to really need stretchin’. “What’s your plan for earnin’ a livin’?” I asked. “I am a kind of apostle,” sez he, “an’ I live on the bounty of others.” “Do you mean ’at you’re a preacher?” asked Badger-face. “Yes,” the stranger replied with a smile. [Illustration: We found the singer on foot with a noose about his neck an’ nine rather tough-lookin’ citizens holdin’ a parley with him] “Well, I never see a preacher with as short hair as yours, nor one who carried so much artillery, nor one who made a practice o’ pickin’ up a fresh hoss whenever he felt like it. Where’d you learn to ride, an’ where’d you learn to rope?” “Eastern Colorado. I lived there four years, an’ travelled on hossback,” sez the stranger. “I’ll bet you left there mighty sudden,” sez Badger-face with an evil leer. “Yes,” replied the stranger, with a grin, “an’ I also left on hossback.” “Well, ya satisfied now?” grunted Badger-face to me.