The Bandit of Hells Bend

A HALF-dozen men sprawled comfortably in back-tilted chairs against the side of the Bar Y bunk-house at the home ranch. They were young men, lithe of limb, tanned of face and clear of eye. Their skins shone from recent ablutions and their slicked hair was still damp, for they had but just come from the evening meal, and meals at the home ranch required a toilet.One of them was singing."In the shade of a tree we two sat, him an' me, Where the Haegler Hills slope to the Raft While our ponies browsed 'round, reins a-draggin' the ground; Then he looks at me funny an' laft.""Most anyone would," interrupted a listener."Shut up," admonished another, "I ain't only heered this three hundred an' sixty-five times in the las' year. Do you think I want to miss anything?"Unabashed, the sweet singer continued."'Do you see thet there town?' he inquires, pintin' down To some shacks sprawlin' 'round in the heat. I opined thet I did an' he shifted his quid After drowndin' a tumble-bug neat. Then he looks at me square. 'There's a guy waitin' there Thet the sheep-men have hired to git me. Are you game to come down to thet jerk-water town Jest to see what in Hell you will see?'"One of the group rose and stretched, yawning. He was a tall, dark man. Perhaps in his expression there was something a bit sinister. He seldom smiled and, when not in liquor, rarely spoke.