McLean did not hear. He was musing, his eyes fixed absently in front of him. “I would not want,” he said, with hesitating utterance--“I'd not wish for even my enemy to have a thing like what I've had to do to-night.” Barker touched him on the arm. “If there had been another man I could trust--” “Trust!” broke in the cow-puncher. “Why, Doc, it is the best turn yu' ever done me. I know I am a man now--if my nerve ain't gone.” “I've known you were a man since I knew you!” said the hearty Governor. And he helped the still unsteady six-foot to a chair. “As for your nerve, I'll bring you some whiskey now. And after”--he glanced at the bed--“and tomorrow you'll go try if Miss Jessamine won't put the nerve--” “Yes, Doc, I'll go there, I know. But don't yu'--don't let's while she's--I'm going to be glad about this, Doc, after awhile, but--” At the sight of a new-comer in the door, he stopped in what his soul was stammering to say. “What do you want, Judge?” he inquired, coldly. “I understand,” began Slaghammer to Barker--“I am informed--” “Speak quieter, Judge,” said the cow-puncher. “I understand,” repeated Slaghammer, more official than ever, “that there was a case for the coroner.” “You'll be notified,” put in McLean again. “Meanwhile you'll talk quiet in this room.” Slaghammer turned, and saw the breathing mass on the bed. “You are a little early, Judge,” said Barker, “but--” “But your ten dollars are safe,” said McLean. The coroner shot one of his shrewd glances at the cow-puncher, and sat down with an amiable countenance. His fee was, indeed, ten dollars; and he was desirous of a second term. “Under the apprehension that it had already occurred--the misapprehension--I took steps to impanel a jury,” said he, addressing both Barker and McLean. “They are--ah--waiting outside. Responsible men, Governor, and have sat before. Drybone has few responsible men to-night, but I procured these at a little game where they were--ah--losing. You may go back, gentlemen,” said he, going to the door. “I will summon you in proper time.” He looked in the room again. “Is the husband not intending--” “That's enough, Judge,” said McLean. “There's too many here without adding him.” “Judge,” spoke a voice at the door, “ain't she ready yet?” “She is still passing away,” observed Slaghammer, piously. “Because I was thinking,” said the man--“I was just--You see, us jury is dry and dead broke. Doggonedest cards I've held this year, and--Judge, would there be anything out of the way in me touching my fee in advance, if it's a sure thing?”