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His hands rested on his hips, his thumbs hooked inside his overalls; a gawky pose that fitted well his colourless personality, and left his right hand close to his six-shooter. "Cor'ner comin'?" he asked, nodding at the two who were almost strangers to him. "Sorry, he got back two hours ago, and he said the cor'ner would be right out. But he ain't showed up yet."
He died still strugglin', fer his long, bony fingers war gripped in the wood it's rotted a deal sence then." "Who was the man?" asked Seymour. "Nobody knows, nobody keers 'cept' Meddy. She hev wep' a bushel o' tears about him. The cor'ner 'lowed from the old-fashioned flint-lock rifle he hed with him that it mus' hev happened nigh a hunderd years ago.
There he was. On the floor. His eyes weren't open much, but they was watchin' me sort of sneerin'. I come down off that roof like a bat outa hell, and scuttled over to Vandeman's where his chink was on the porch, I bellerin' at him. I telephoned from there. For the bulls; and the cor'ner; and everybody. Gawd! I was all in." I caught one point in the tale.
"He told it hisself, blabbed it right out to the men at the camp; then he went on down to Loss Anglus, big as life, an' blowed about it there. He's cheeky." Melissa turned on him with a flash of contempt. "You said they ketched him." The boy felt his importance as the bearer of sensational tidings ebbing away. "I don't care," he replied sullenly. "They'll hang 'im, anyway: the cor'ner said so."
Two of them chanced to be acquaintances of his. As to the rest, the coroner had not the remotest idea. They might have been beggars or pickpockets, for aught that he cared. They looked stupid, and he liked stupid jurors. "Them sharp fellers that thinks they knows more'n the cor'ner, is a cussed nuisance," he often had occasion to remark.
It's Casey Ryan that's tellin' yuh, an' yuh better heed what he says, before you're tore from limb to limb!" "B-but, Casey! This 'ere's a shurf's possy!" The voice of Barney rose in a protesting 'squawk. "I brung 'em all the way over here to your rescue! They brung a cor'ner to view your remains! Don't you know your pardner, BARNEY OAKES? "Ah-h I know yuh think I don't?
"D'yuh think me and Frank could fight the Sawtooth and get anything out of it but a coffin apiece, maybe?" he demanded harshly. "Don't the Sawtooth own this country? Warfield's got the sheriff in his pocket, and the cor'ner, and the judge, and the stock inspector he's Senator Warfield, and what he wants he gets. He gets through the law that you was talking about a little while ago.
I don't want you talking about what you saw. I don't want you thinkin' about it. What's the use? Thurman's dead and buried. The cor'ner come and held an inquest, and the jury agreed it was an accident. I was on the jury. The sheriff's took charge of his property. You couldn't prove what you saw, even if you was to try." He looked at her very much as Lone Morgan had looked at her.
Yer all know how I had a young-'un, and how ha, ha, ha! the brat was found, the next day after it was born, dead in the Black Sea; it never died no nat'ral death that young-'un didn't, yer can bet yer life; the old Cor'ner wasn't far out of the way when he said in his werdict that the child had been strangled!
"D'yuh think me and Frank could fight the Sawtooth and get anything out of it but a coffin apiece, maybe?" he demanded harshly. "Don't the Sawtooth own this country? Warfield's got the sheriff in his pocket, and the cor'ner, and the judge, and the stock inspector he's Senator Warfield, and what he wants he gets. He gets it through the law that you was talking about a little while ago.
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