It was well on toward morning--he could tell that by the moon--but the sound was new to him. No one explained Deets's death. I didn't know. Soupy had rangered with them a few months, before they quit.
Deets observed, he remembered; rarely would he volunteer advice, but when asked, his advice was always to the point. He had to jump on his horse and lope, just to catch up. We hung him. The rope squeaked against the bark of the limb.
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