"Nevertheless," returned Hall, "I must beg you to believe that I have nothing to do with such work. I am a private citizen and the mission I am on will not injure a human being in the world. I admit there was a time when I was drawn into a struggle that left a certain mark on my face; but that time is past, and some day, I trust, the marks will be less apparent. In brief, while I may have the look of a fighter, I come into this country with malice towards no man. I intend to remain strictly neutral." "H'm; 'neutral,' eh?" sniffed Meshackatee, shifting his ponderous bulk and striking back the hair from one ear, "do you see that little mark on my ear? Well, that broke me of being neutral." Hall looked, and the lower lobe of the ear had been sliced down and left dangling by a segment--that's what the cowmen call a "jinglebob." "I got that," went on Meshackatee, "in the Lincoln County War, when Billy the Kid was still working for Chisholm and branding every cow-brute he could rope. He'd ride along the road with a bunch of them tough cowboys, take the oxen out of them Mexican freight-teams and brand 'em while they was still in the yoke. That was Billy the Kid; but me, I was neutral--I wouldn't have no truck with such doings. Well, one night I was camping with another outsider when this outfit rode up--drunk. "'Who ye fur?'" they says, and I speaks my little piece. "'I'm neutral,' I says, and they ropes me. "'A neutral's a maverick on this here range,' they says, and I'm a doggoned Mexican if they didn't jinglebob my ears and burn a big fence-rail on my ribs. Don't believe it, hey? Well, take a look at that and tell me if you're still a neutral!" He tore open his shirt and exposed a long, red line, burned deep into the tender flesh--then struck back the hair from his ears. "That's the old Chisholm brand," he nodded grimly, "and they ran it on my pardner, too. He was a revengeful sort of cuss and tapped two of 'em, later; but me, I jest let my hair grow long and moved on to Arizona. But I've switched my system now, and whichever side is on the prod I throw right in with them. It's the only way to do--ain't it the innocent bystander that always gits shot in the neck? There's no principle involved--one's as bad as the other--so what's the use of being a fool? I'm out for the ready money. I'm a hired bravo, drawing my ten dollars a day and doing the heavy thinking for the gang; and if you want to join in with us while you're looking for this party I'll see that you get a job. Don't even have to stay with us if you don't like Isham's ways--go over and join the Bassetts and you'd be worth that much more than you would be sticking around with the gang. But whatever you do, for cripes' sake don't stay neutral. You can see what happened to me!" He brushed back the hair over his slit and mangled ears and a steely look came into his eyes. "I'm looking for a certain party myself," he said. "Reckon we all are--would you like to come in?"