sighting along a rifle barrel, while a 
cigarette hung limply from his mouth. 
Then in response to a winning smile 
(after all, a woman’s best weapon) he 
opened the floodgates of his thoughts 
and poured into my ears a succession 
tae of bloodcurdling adventures over which 
en the big, big ‘I’ had dominated. | 
“ Yes,” he said musingly of his second 
murder, as he removed his squint from 
| the fire to me, and a ghost of a smile 
‘> played around his lips; “yes, it took 
‘ six shots to keep him quiet, and you 
could have covered all the holes with a 
cap box — and his pard nearly got me. 
ie “That was the year I lost my pard, 
~~ Dick Elsen. We was.at camp near 
Fort Fetterman. We called a man 
‘Red’—his name was Jim Capse. 
Drink was at the bottom of it. Red he 
sees my pard passing a saloon, and he 
CA ut, 
Es 
Ss 
~iootmmonia 2x0 
