Q: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: The sweet taste of cold and wood smoke hung in the air. Marlin rode low in the saddle, his shoulders curled against the hungry wind. His hat was pulled down tight and his eyes didn't move as he passed the crude shacks at the edge of town. He tied his horse in front of the saloon, unwinding his long body as if a sudden movement might snap it. He turned down the collar of his greatcoat and checked to make sure his big Army Colt was loose in its holster. The saloon door was a single chunk of white pine, still oozing sap, and he had to put his shoulder to it to force it open. The long room inside was quiet, and not much warmer than the street. Clusters of people sat nursing coffee and drinks, talking quietly if they talked at all. Marlin spotted a few farmers the railroad had brought in from Europe: rounded hats, nervous eyes, skin as red as blood. At the far end of the room a half-dozen cowboys turned over cards with patient boredom. Marlin walked up to the bar. "Whiskey," he said, and when the drink came he tossed it straight down and felt it pull his lips into a grimace. He nodded for a refill. When he turned to face the room they were all watching him. "I'm looking for a man named Kraamer," Marlin said. "Anybody here know of him?" One of the cowboys turned casually and rang the spittoon with a stream of tobacco juice. Marlin knew the long, thin face from somewhere, the blond hair that fell limply to his shoulders. He smiled at Marlin and showed his brown-stained teeth. Marlin felt the lines in his own face, the gray in his hair, the chill in his bones. He was too old for this. He set a half dollar on the bar and started for the door. "Don't get in a huff," the bartender said. Marlin looked back. "Kraamer lives about a mile west of town. Follow the railroad and take the first trail south." Question: Marlin opened the saloon door: Answer:

OPTIONS:
- after forcing it open
- before getting off his horse
- not enough information
- before he checked for his gun

A: after forcing it open

input: OPTIONS:
- One minute
- Ten minutes
- Twenty minutes
- not enough information Now, answer this question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Trying to drive up a very small street with cars parked on both sides so only one car at a time could get by, individual sees me already entered the roadway, got in the car backs out of his driveway, intending to for me to back all the way out. I was about half in. I wait thinking he will realize it was a not so smart action and he will pull back in to let me pass since forward is an easier safer plan. He doesn't do that we sit for anout 30 seconds and he is determined to stay. I was a fairly new driver in my first car. I get irritated and shut my motor off basically saying, buddy I entered the street first you were parked never looked before you hurriedly pulled forward. So he shuts off his motor and smiled good as to say stalemate. I'm thinking I have no place I have to be, I'll wait rather than trying to back up half the block without hitting somebodies car. We wait, he gets out of his car goes into his house, no cell phone back then it was the pager (beepers) era. I wasnt sure why he was going in, but probably nit good outcome for me. So I happened to have a small bottle of Keri Lotion (thick, oily lotion for extremely dry skin) in the cup holder. I jump out of my car run to his squirted the whole bottle all over his windshield ran back to my car and DID manage to back up rapidly without damaging my car or anyone! He ran out of the house and I saw by his facial expression was livid! I was thinking as I drove away I hope he doesn't try to use the wipers, that's going to make a really smear mess. He's not going anyplace for a while. Years later I regretted having done that, letting a stranger provoke me, and second felt guilty about the sheer gleeful triumph of seeing his face. I won! Question: How long did the man probably stay inside? Answer:
A:
output: One minute

Problem:OPTIONS:
- Buford
- Jenny
- not enough information
- Kyle

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: "So, Jenny tells me jury selection is going well," said Buford, puffing small billows of Cuban cigar smoke into the phone with each syllable. "Yes, I think so too." Kyle was speeding down FM-2208 in his new Lexus SC 430, headed toward Coreyville. He could barely make his lease payments, but he had to have that car. It screamed success-- especially with the top down. His wavy head of hair would be easily restored to perfection with a few brush strokes. "Well, you be sure to take her advice. She knows how to pick a jury." Buford figured some of Kyle's attention would be focused on getting Jenny into bed, but he didn't think it would jeopardize the case. "Don't worry, Mr. Bellowin, I will." At only 27, Kyle Serpentine had already developed a successful practice in Longview, defending every kind of crook. Some of them paid handsomely. He idolized Buford Bellowin. Buford had grown up in Coreyville and earned his Bachelor's and Law degree at University of Texas, graduating near the top of his class. Now he was a high-priced, infamous defense attorney headquartered in Dallas. Nicknamed 'The Bell', he had never lost a case. Even in law school, his mock trial team always won. And Buford put on a show in the courtroom. So, the gallery was always packed with those who wanted to see The Bell in action. Occasionally, some hotshot would think he could outsmart him. But Buford was the teacher, and it was his classroom. Before the prosecutor knew what hit him, The Bell would ring, and school was out. "The D.A. really thought she could get a jury out of that pool of forty, didn't she? She thought this was gonna be a cakewalk. They don't get many murder trials in Coreyville. That's good for us. And she'll make more mistakes. Mark my words." Question: Who is the District Attorney? Answer:
****
A:
Jenny