VI MoMiitain Jim s Eiid 179 



very kindly in the matter, to insist on Jim's being 

 taken down to the low country (Denver), where he 

 lived for three months with the two halves of a split 

 bullet in his brain. I was much chaffed and derided 

 by the local papers for saying that a bullet had 

 penetrated the brain, but one day, as I expected, Jim 

 tumbled head over heels like a well -killed rabbit, 

 there was a post-mortem — and there it was. 



' He used to cause me considerable uneasiness 

 now and again during his temporary recovery, for 

 the man who had shot him occasionally drove me 

 past the shanty in which he lived, and in front of 

 which he used to see him sitting rifle in hand. I 

 confess that I felt somewhat anxious on these occa- 

 sions as to the possibility of his drawing a bead on 

 Griff and including me in the shot ; and I really 

 fancy that had I not been there, or had poor Jim 

 been quite certain of hitting the right man, good 

 Mrs. Griff would have become a widow. 



' He was, I am afraid, a great ruffian, but he 

 was certainly an educated man. Some said that he 

 was a defrocked Canadian priest, others that he was 

 an expelled Canadian schoolmaster, others that he 

 was both. He regarded me as a literary brother, 

 and used to give me verses of his own composition. 

 He left me his rifle and his last pony, but as he had 

 stolen the one and borrowed the other I made but 

 little out of the legacy. To my mind, taking him 

 altogether, he was a bad Western man, a more 

 plentiful species, I fear, than the good Western man. 



