by friends…
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chunk 961 · paragraph 1265
taken home
by friends. Occasionally a revolver would drop
to the floor, or was drawn and flourished by
its happy owner, and still the dance went on.
Frequently a row would occur, and occasionally
a dead man or two would be carried out, but
the dance went on just the same.
After taking in the town, the writer accom-
panied Charley Stevens to his room, and had
hardly lain down when two pistol shots rang
out only a block or so from the room. With
true newspaper instinct the writer wanted to
go down town and see what was going on, but
Charley, with more experience, suggested that
we wait awhile, as the fun might not yet be
over. After a few minutes we went down to a
little tent saloon, and found the corpse laid out
on a bench, with a handkerchief tied round its
head. Drinking was going on at the bar as
usual. The victim was the railroad man who
had testified against the rustlers. He had been
shot in the back of the head. No one knew who
did the shooting, and no arrests were made.
It was the way the rustlers got even with men
who dared testify against them.