It was, in truth, one that Bob had carried off as a Sunday School prize, when a boy, in Ohio. It was so stiff that the cover cracked when it was opened; but the leather binding was ripped and torn, and the leaves were plowed into pulp for three-fourths of its thickness. At this point the sheriff explained that the bullet had been deflected into the solid wood of the table. He had dug it out. Coroner.--"Where did you get this here book?" The gunfighter looked rather sheepish. "I'm sort of superstitious," he confessed, "and when I seen that in your office the other day, Bob, I stuck it inside my shirt." A murmur swept over the court-room and beat against the walls. Coroner.--"You've killed six men, ain't you?" "No, sir; you're wrong. Only four," Thomas corrected, licking his dry lips. "Gen'l'men," said the coroner, not without sternness toward Thomas, "this hits me like so plain a case of shooting in self-defense, that I reckon we don't need to bother no more about the evidence." "Hold on," the sheriff said. "Hold on, there; I'd like for to say something." Being duly sworn, he started off like this: "Gentlemen, this wasn't a killing. It was a murder." Everybody waited open-mouthed to hear more. Thomas turned on him a quick, startled glance. Then someone said: "What's the matter with you, Lafe?" "It's just what I done said. Murder." There was a stir, and a ripple of unbelieving laughter. "Order!" the coroner cried. He was looking to Johnson for explanation. "I was kind of wondering," the prisoner muttered, half aloud, as though not altogether surprised at the turn of events. "Yes, sir, Bud Walton was murdered. This man here didn't kill him at all. Here's Jeff's gun. Take a look at it. It's a .45. Bud, he was killed with a 30-30 rifle. Here's the bullet. Jeff's first shot went way above his head into the ceiling, and the next two are in the boards." CHAPTER X A JOURNEY TO SATAN'S KINGDOM "What're you giving us?" "Go on, Lafe." "Hush, let's hear him." "Quit crowding there, will you?" "Say, are you looking for trouble?" "Well, quit it." It was long before quiet could be obtained. The sheriff waited for absolute silence before taking up the thread of his explanation again. Then he said, slowly scanning the faces around him--"Mr. Coroner, if you'll adjourn this here court for two days, I'll bring the murderer here." The inquest adjourned in confusion. Thomas was released, only to be rearrested. "I'll learn fellers like you a lesson," the sheriff told him. "Bob, give him thirty days for stealing that there Bible of yours." The justice of the peace imposed the sentence with alacrity. It had the appearance of spite, but Jeff exhibited no resentment and left for the county town in charge of a deputy, without a word of protest. To me, he appeared a broken man.