All three of the plaintiffs took the stand, their testimony supporting the complaint, Lovell’s attorney refusing even to cross-examine any one of them. When they rested their case Sutton arose, and scanning the audience for some time, inquired, “Is Jim Reed there?” In response, a tall, one-armed man worked his way from the outer gallery through the crowd and advanced to the rail. I knew Reed by sight only, my middle brother having made several trips with his trail cattle, but he was known to every one by reputation. He had lost an arm in the Confederate service, and was recognized by the gambling fraternity as the gamest man among all the trail drovers, while every cowman from the Rio Grande to the Yellowstone knew him as a poker-player. Reed was asked to take the stand, and when questioned if he knew either of the plaintiffs, said: “Yes, I know that fat gentleman, and I’m powerful glad to meet up with him again,” replied the witness, designating Honest John. “That man is so crooked that he can’t sleep in a bed, and it’s one of the wonders of this country that he hasn’t stretched hemp before this. I made his acquaintance as manager of The Federal Supply Company, and delivered three thousand cows to him at the Washita Indian Agency last fall. In the final settlement, he drew on three different banks, and one draft of twenty-eight thousand dollars came back, indorsed, DRAWEE UNKNOWN. I had other herds on the trail to look after, and it was a month before I found out that the check was bogus, by which time Honest John had sailed for Europe. There was nothing could be done but put my claim into a judgment and lay for him. But I’ve got a grapevine twist on him now, for no sooner did he buy a herd here last week than Mr. Sutton transferred the judgment to this jurisdiction, and his cattle will be attached this afternoon. I’ve been on his trail for nearly a year, but he’ll come to me now, and before he can move his beeves out of this county, the last cent must come, with interest, attorney’s fees, detective bills, and remuneration for my own time and trouble. That’s the reason that I’m so glad to meet him. Judge, I’ve gone to the trouble and expense to get his record for the last ten years. He’s so snaky he sheds his name yearly, shifting for a nickname from Honest John to The Quaker. In ’80 he and his associates did business under the name of The Army & Sutler Supply Company, and I know of two judgments that can be bought very reasonable against that corporation. His record would convince any one that he despises to make an honest dollar.”