After they left, Justice Benaja Widdup smoked his pipe. He read his weekly newspaper until the moon rose. Then it was time to walk home and eat. He lived in a double log cabin on the side of the mountain. Going home, he crossed a little path darkened by a group of trees. Suddenly, a man stepped out. He pointed a gun at him. The man’s hat was pulled down low. Something covered most of his face. «I want your money,» said the man, «without any talk. My finger is shaking on this trigger.» «I have only got f-five dollars,» said the Justice. «Roll it up,» the man ordered, «and stick it in the end of this gun barrel. Then you can be going along.» The Justice did as he was told. The next day the cart stopped once more at the door of the Justice of the Peace. Inside, Ransie Bilbro gave his wife a five dollar bill. The Justice looked at it sharply. The bill seemed to curl up. It looked as if it had been rolled and stuck into the end of a gun barrel. But the Justice said nothing. He gave each person a decree of divorce. Each stood quietly. Neither one looked at ease.