"Hello, Tex, ain't dancin'? Say, they're tellin' how a pilgrim killed Jack Purdy. Yes, an' they got him locked up down in the wool-warehouse. What's yourn?" The cowboy ranged himself beside the Texan. "A little red liquor, I reckon." The men poured their drinks and the Texan glanced toward the other: "You ain't mournin' none over Purdy, Curly?" "Who, me?" the man laughed. "Not what you c'd notice, I ain't. An' they's plenty others ain't, too. I don't hear no lamentations wailin' a-bustin' in on the festchivities. It was over the pilgrim's girl. They say how Purdy tried to----" "Yes, he did. But the pilgrim got there first. I been thinkin', Curly. It's plumb shameful for to hold the pilgrim for doin' what one of us would of had to do sooner or later. Choteau County has stood for him about as long as it could, an' a damn sight longer than it ought to. His work was gettin' so rotten it stunk, I could tell you about a sage-brush corral an' some runnin'-iron work over on the south slope----" "Yes," broke in the other, "an' there's a hell of a lot of I X an' Bear Paw Pool cows that show'd up, brandin' time, 'thout no calves." The Texan nodded: "Exactly. Now, what I was goin' on to say: The grand jury don't set for a couple or three months yet. An' when they do, they'll turn the pilgrim loose so quick it'll make yer head swim. Then, there's the girl. They'll hold her for a witness--not that they'd have to, 'cause she'll stay on her own hook. Now what's the use of them bein' took down to Benton an' stuck in jail? Drink up, an' have another." "Not none," agreed Curly, as he measured out his liquor to an imaginary line half-way up the glass. "But how'd you figger to fix it?" "Well," answered the Texan, as his lips twisted into their peculiar smile; "we might get the right bunch together an' go down to the wool-warehouse an' save the grand jury the trouble." The other stared at him in amazement: "You mean bust him out?" Tex laughed: "Sure. Lord! Won't it be fun seein' Sam Moore puttin' up a scrap to save his prisoner?" "But, how'd we git away with him? All Sam w'd do is git a posse an' take out after him an' they'd round him up 'fore he got to Three-mile. Or if we went along we'd git further but they'd git us in the end an' then we'd be in a hell of a fix!"