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Updated: June 15, 2025
Stewart stepped forward and, thrusting Don Carlos aside, he called, "Make way, there!" The crowd fell back to the tramp of heavy boots. Cowboys appeared staggering out of the corridor with long boxes. These they placed side by side upon the floor of the porch. "Now, Hawe, we'll proceed with our business," said Stewart. "You see these boxes, don't you?"
"I reckon I see a good many things round hyar," replied Hawe, meaningly. "Well, do you intend to open these boxes upon my say-so?" "No!" retorted Hawe. "It's not my place to meddle with property as come by express an' all accounted fer regular." "You call yourself a sheriff!" exclaimed Stewart, scornfully. "Mebbe you'll think so before long," rejoined Hawe, sullenly. "I'll open them.
Stillwell was trying to holster up the crushed Stewart. Hawe rolled his red eyes and threw back his head. "Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho! Say, Sneed, you didn't miss any of it, did ye? Haw, haw! Best I ever heerd in all my born days. Ho, ho!"
"Yes," replied Stewart, steadily. "Wal, by Gawd! You, Gene Stewart! What's come over you? Why, man, go in the house, an' I'll 'tend to this feller. Then to-morrow you can ride in an' give yourself up like a gentleman." "No. I'll go. Thanks, Bill, for the way you and the boys would stick to me. Hurry, Hawe, before my mind changes."
"I'm driving at this," spoke up Stewart, presently; and now he was slow and caustic. "Here's contraband of war! Hawe, do you get that? Arms and ammunition for the rebels across the border! I charge you as an officer to confiscate these goods and to arrest the smuggler Don Carlos."
Will you take charge of these contraband goods?" "Say, you're holdin' on high an' mighty," replied Hawe, in astonishment that was plainly pretended. "What 're you drivin' at?" Stewart muttered an imprecation.
I think perhaps fifteen minutes, possibly a little more." "Some dark an' lonesome around thet station, wasn't it?" "Indeed yes." "An' what time was the Greaser shot?" queried Hawe, with his little eyes gleaming like coals. "Probably close to half past one. It was two o'clock when I looked at my watch at Florence Kingsley's house.
Directly after Stewart sent Bonita away he took me to Miss Kingsley's. So, allowing for the walk and a few minutes' conversation with her, I can pretty definitely say the shooting took place at about half past one." Stillwell heaved his big frame a step closer to the sheriff. "What 're you drivin' at?" he roared, his face black again. "Evidence," snapped Hawe.
An' Pat, he looked so devilishly gleeful thet if somethin' about Gene hedn't held me tight I'd hev got in the game my-self. It was plain to me an' others who spoke of it afterwards thet Pat Hawe hed forgotten the law an' the officer in the man an' his hate. "'I'm a-goin', an' I'm a-goin' right now! he shouted. "An' after thet any one could hev heerd a clock tick a mile off.
It jest stuck out all over him, an' he shook his finger in Stewart's face. "'You was drunk last night? "Stewart never batted an eye. "'You met some woman on Number Eight, didn't you? shouted Hawe. "'I met a lady, replied Stewart, quiet an' menacin' like. "'You met Al Hammond's sister, an' you took her up to Kingsley's.
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