“What do you think, judge?” I asks.

He picks up the lead rope of his pack-horse and ponders the question.

“Ike, I hate to give out a judicial reply as I might be called upon to render a decision from the bench, but I’ll say this much: Any jury in Yaller Rock County would convict him without leaving their seats.”

He gets on his horse and pilgrims off up the trail.

“How quaint,” grins Ajax. “Is he really a presiding judge or did he simply acquire the title as many Westerners are reputed to have?”

“I believe he is,” says Magpie. “Danged if I don’t believe he is.”

“Is what?” asks Ajax.

“Right.”

“Ah, no doubt,” agrees Ajax foolish-like, and we let the matter rest.

Ajax puttered around for a while and then came to us.

“May I—er—have a piece of rope? Three yards will be sufficient.”

“Plenty,” agrees Magpie pleased-like.

“You know how to tie the proper kind of a knot?”

“I— Perhaps not, but——”

“The pleasure is all mine,” says Magpie.

Ajax looks the knot over interested-like.

“Beg pardon, but will you tell me why you wound the rope around so many times?”

“Thirteen times,” says Magpie. “Any sheriff knows how. Now, do you want us to elevate the wagon-tongue or do you prefer a limb?”

Ajax’s mouth hangs open for a full minute, and then he seems to catch the point.

“He, he, he! You—you thought perhaps I wanted to make a—er—a swing, I believe they call them. You were spoofing me, I fear. No, I thank you.”

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