I reckons it's a good hedge,
an' a little prayin' mebby does me good."
"'Tharupon the committee puts for'ard a gent who's a good talker;
but not takin' an interest much, he makes a mighty weak orison, that
a-way. Thar's nohody likes it, from the culprit, who's standin' thar
with the lariat 'round his neck, to the last gent who's come up.
This party blunders along, mebby it's a minute, when the culprit,
who's plumb disgusted, breaks in.
"'"That's a hell of a pra'r," he says, "an' I don't want no more of
it in mine. Gimme a drink of whiskey, gents, an' swing me off."
"'The committee, whose sympathies is all with this yere party who's
to hang, calls down the gent a heap who's prayin', gives the other
his forty drops, an' cinches him up some free of the ground; which
the same bein' ample for strang'lation.
"'But,' concloods Jack, 'while they hangs him all right an' proper,
that don't put off the funeral of the marshal none, who gets
careless an' goes too close.' An' you bet Jack's right.
"But goin' back: As I remarks, Jack stands round loose an'
indifferent with his eye on the pony of Pinon Bill's, which it looks
now like this yere Bill is aware of Jack's little game.
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