Tom an' Jerry is shore departed an' I'm deeficient my two best mules.

I hooks up the others, an' seein' it's down hill an' a easy trail I makes Tascosa an' refits.
"I never crosses up on Tom an' Jerry in this yere life no more, but one day I learns their fate.

It's a month later on my next trip back, an' I'm camped about a half day's drive of that same locoed plaza of Tramperos.

As I'm settin' in camp with the sun still plenty high--I'm compilin' flapjacks at the time--I sees eight or ten ravens wheelin' an' cirklin' over beyond a swell about three miles to the left.
"'Tom an' Jerry for a bloo stack!' I says to myse'f; an' with that I cinches the saddle onto James precip'tate.
"Shore enough; I'm on the scene of the tragedy.

Half way down a rocky slope where thar ain't grass enough to cover the brown nakedness of the ground lies the bones of Tom an' Jerry.