*See heah, Surface,* flashed Brazos, his piercing tenor stiffening his hearers. *I am a Texan an’ one of the breed thet don’t forget insult or injustice. You’re a hell of a fine Westerner to act as an adviser to a Cattlemen’s Association. A real Westerner–a big-hearted cattleman who was on the square– wouldn’t condemn me without askin’ for proofs. You take this Bodkin’s word. If he hasn’t got some queer reason to fasten this crime on me, it’s a shore bet he itches to hang someone. Wal, I happen to be innocent an’ I can prove it. I could choke up an’ spit fire at the idee of my bein’ taken for a low-down skunk who’d shoot a boy in the back to rob him. An’ swallow this, Mister Raine Surface–you’ll rue the day you insulted a ragamuffin of a cowboy who was only huntin’ for a job.*