He must ha' got it into his
fool head that he was God's appointed instrument to save _me_.
He's as innercent as Mary's little lamb, and so am I."
The squatters gazed at each other in stupefaction. Not a man present
but could lie fearlessly on occasion, but not with such consummate art
as this.
"Anything more ter say?" inquired the 'Piker.'
"Wal, there's this: I tole Jake Farge that I'd shoot him on sight, and
I'm mighty glad that someone else has saved me the trouble. You mean
to do me up; I see that plain. I hated yer comin' into a country that
won't support a crowd, and I've made things hot for more'n one of ye.
But I wasn't thinkin' o' land when I warned Jake Farge not to set foot
on my ranch."
"What was you thinkin' of?"
"Of my Mintie. That feller--a married man--has bin after her--and some
of you know it. She kin take keer of herself can my Mints, but some
things is a man's business. I meant to shoot him, but I didn't. I'm
glad the low-down cuss is dead, but the bullet that stopped his
crawlin' to my gal never come outer my rifle. Now string me up, and be
derned to ye, but let this young feller go back to look after my
daughter.
Pages:
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345