"Jack Moore takes the Wells-Fargo book-keep homicide in charge, while Enright, who declar's that jestice to be effectyooal must be swift, says that onless shown reason he'll convene the committee at once. He adds, likewise, that it'll be kindly took if the Red Dog chief, an'

what members of his triboonal is present, will b'ar their part.

"In all p'liteness, the Red Dog chief deeclines.

"'This is your joorisdiction,' he says, 'an' we Red Dogs can only return the compliment which your su'gestion implies by a.s.shorin'

you-all of our advance confidence in the rect.i.toode of what jedgments you inflicts.'

"'Speak your piece,' says Enright to the Wells-Fargo book-keep culprit, when stood up before him by Moore. 'Whatever prompts you to blow out this Spellin' Book Ben's candle that a-way?'

"'Let me say,' exclaims the Wells-Fargo book-keep murderer, an' his manner is some torrid, 'that I has five hundred dollars bet on this yere contest----'

"'That is a question,' interrupts Enright, suave but plenty firm, 'which will doubtless prove interestin' to your execooter. This, however, is not the time nor place. I asks ag'in, whatever is your reason for shovin' this yere expert in orthography from sh.o.r.e?'

"'Do you-all think,' returns the Wells-Fargo murderer, 'that I'll abide to see a obscoority like him outspell me?--me, who's the leadin' speller of eight States and two territories, an' never scores less than sixty-five out of a poss'ble fifty? Which I'd sooner die.'

"'So you'd sooner die?' repeats Enright, as cold an' dark an' short as a November day. 'Well, most folks don't get their sooners in this world, but it looks a heap like you will!' Turnin' to Moore, he goes on: 'Our friends from Red Dog'll hold your captive, Jack, while you-all goes rummagin' over to the corral an' gets a rope, the committee havin' come onprovided.'

"Moore gives the Wells-Fargo homicide to the Red-Dog chief, an'

tharupon, we Stranglers bein' ready to go into execyootive session, all hands except Enright an' the committee steps outside. We're in confab mebby it's ten minutes, an' Enright has jest approved a yoonanimous vote in favor of hangin', when thar's a modest tap at the door.

"It's the Lightnin' Bug.

"'It ain't,' he says, when we asks his mission, 'that we-all aims to disturb your deelib'rations none, gents, but the chief'd like to borry Doc Peets for five minutes to say a few words over the corpse.'

"Upon this yere hint we-all gambols forth, an' finds what's left of the Wells-Fargo book-keep murderer adornin' the windmill. Thar's whar their del'cacy comes in; that's how them Red Dogs saves us from a disagree'ble dooty.

"We plants Spellin' Book Ben on Boot Hill as per that sufferer's last request, an' Red Dog graces the obsequies to a man. Thar Spellin' Book lies to-day; an' the story of his ontoward takin' off, as told on that tombstone conj'intly erected as aforesaid by Wolfville an' Red Dog, is anyooally read by scores of devotees of learnin' who, bar'-headed an'

mournful, comes as pilgrims to his grave."

THE END