"Aw, boys," begged the widda, droppin' Willie and runnin' 'longside,
"don't hurt him! _don't!_ What does the pigs matter?"
"I'll discharge ev'ry one of you," says the section-boss.
"Boys," I begun again, "_why_ should this gent want to harm this lady.
Why, I can tell you----"
Pedro Garcia stuck his black fist into my face. "He lof her," he says,
"and she say no. So he iss revenge hisself." (Say! the grammar they
use is plumb fierce.)
"He iss revenge hisself!" yells the rest of the bunch. Then they all
looked at the widda.
"Boys," she sobs, "I ain't _never_ refused him. Fer a good reason--he
ain't never ast me."
(The cholos, they just growled.)
"_What?_" I ast, turnin' on Bergin like I was hoppin'. "You love
her, and yet you ain't never ast her to marry you? Wal, you blamed
bottle of ketchup, you _oughta_ die!"
"How _could_ I ast her?" begun the sheriff. "She plumb hates the sight
of me."
"I don't! I don't!" sobs the widda. "Mister Lloyd knows that ain't
so. Willie and me, we--we----"
"Y' _see?_" I turned to the Mexicans. "He loves her; she loves him.
We're a-goin' to have a weddin', not a hangin'."
"The stone--he iss revenge," says Pedro.
"The stone," I answers, "come outen the sky. It's a mete'rite."
"I felt it hit!" cries the widda.
Wal, you couldn't expect a Mexican t' swaller _that_. So we'd no
more'n got the words outen our mouths when they begun to dance 'round
Bergin again with the halter.
Wal, how do you think it come out?
Mebbe you figger that Mrs. Bridger drawed a knife and sa-a-aved him,
'r I pulled my gun and stood there, tellin' 'em they 'd only hang
the sheriff over my dead body. But that ain't the way it happened. No,
ma'am. _This_ is how:
'Round the bend from towards Albuquerque come the pay-car. Now, the
pay-car, she stops just one minute fer ev'ry section-hand, and them
section-hands was compelled to git into line and be quick about it, 'r
not git they money. So they didn't have no spare time. They let go of
Bergin's rope and run--the section-boss leadin'.
The sheriff, he slung the rope to one side--and the widda goes into his
arms. "Little woman," he says, lookin' down at her, "I'll--I'll
be a good father to the boy." Then he kissed her.
(Wal, that's about all you could reas'nably expect from _Bergin_.)
Next thing, he borraed my gun and just kinda happened over towards the
pay-car. And when a cholo got his time and left the line, he showed him
the way he was to go. And you bet he _minded!_
Wal, things come out _fine_. A big museum in Noo York bought that rock
(If you don't believe it, just go to that museum and you'll see it
a-settin' out in front--big as life.) A-course, Mrs. Bridger got a nice
little pile of money fer it, and paid Curry the balance she owed him.
Then, the sheriff got Mrs. Bridger!
And the bunch that didn't git her? Wal, the bunch that didn't git her
just natu'lly got _left!_