THE END OF EWING’S STORY 145 
‘Wait till after supper,’’ Brown finally said, 
“*T’ll tell you all about it then.’’ 
So we possessed our souls in patience until the 
burros were unpacked, the chuck piled away, and 
supper finished. Then, pipes lit and at ease about 
the fire, we clamoured for the news. 
It was a delectable moment for Brown, who pre- 
pared to make the most of his opportunity. He 
seemed in no hurry to begin. Finally, however, he 
took a deep pull at his pipe, glanced sombrely about 
the circle and inquired: 
‘‘What-th’-hell d’you suppose Ewing’s gone an’ 
done?’’ 
Since this was precisely what we had been trying 
to find out we assumed the query rhetorical and re- 
frained from comment. 
Our informant, after a pause, answered it himself. 
“The crazy son-of-a-gun,’’ he said, ‘‘done kilt a 
feller the same night we got in town an’ surrendered 
to th’ sheriff d’reckly after. They got him in the 
jail at Hillsboro now!’’ 
Here was news with a vengeance. If Brown an- 
ticipated a sensation he was not disappointed. 
Everybody asked questions at once. We were all 
tremendously excited. I asked: 
‘“Who was the man killed? Anybody you knew?’’ 
‘“‘Gimme a chance!’’ pleaded Brown, outwardly 
testy, in reality enjoying the situation thoroughly, 
‘San’ T’ll tell you the whole story. 
‘<You all remember the day we started? Well, it 
