A Rustler's Conscience 147 



"Put that thing back," he said. And 

 the rustler put it back. 



"Now," continued the prospector, "what 

 do you mean by coming here and talking 

 in that style? We've just come in and 

 haven't seen the people yonder." 



"I mean," retorted the rustler, "that 

 you've been over there, you've seen them, 

 and you told them it was me that killed the 

 Indian they found by the lake." 



" Never knew they had found an Indian 

 by the lake." 



"Well, they did, and I'd like to know 

 why they can't let me alone about it. Why 

 are people always pointing at me and talk- 

 ing about me, and saying I did it?" 



The prospector stared in surprise. "I 

 don't know," said he, "unless you did." 



The rustler stamped his foot, tossed his 

 arms, then walked away, while the pros- 

 pectors, with surprise still on their faces, 

 came over to us to inquire what manner of 

 man he was with whom they had held this 

 interview. We did not know. 



On the second morning after this incident 

 three of us set off afoot on the trail that 



