James Beardley Hendryx - Black John of Halfaday Creek

As they were about to shove off, Black John hesitated. “Hold on a minute till I slip back to Cleveland’s tent,” he said. “I jest happened to think that I left that there six gun of his layin’ out on the floor. I’ll stick it back in his pack. There ain’t no use in him knowin’ anyone was prowlin’ around there.”

“Better fetch it along with you,” suggested Swiftwater. “He might take a notion to use it on someone when we come back to git him—if them dogs dies.”

Black John shook his head. “Cripes, Swiftwater, that would be larceny! We hang men fer stealin’ on Halfaday. Of course if Harrison had be’n shot we might be justified in takin’ the gun along fer evidence. But there ain’t no shootin’ involved in this case. It’s a good gun an’ I wouldn’t mind ownin’ it, but when a man lets his ethics git to slippin’ on him he’s in a hell of a fix. No—I’ll jest slip the gun back where I got it. I ain’t lookin’ fer Cleveland to put up no resistance nohow.”

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