148 THE LOG OF A TIMBER CRUISER 
‘‘Hwing didn’t seem much worried. He jest 
looked up at the feller an’ smiled an’ seemed real 
glad to see him. 
‘Whenever you git good an’ ready,’ he said, 
‘shoot ahead!’ 
‘The feller grinned, awful sour-like, an’ sezzee, 
‘You’ll mebbe want t’ think o’ your sins,’ he says, 
‘fer a little. I'll count ten.’ 
‘‘Hwing only laughed at th’ feller. He shore had 
his nerve with him. 
“The feller begin to count, an’ then, jest as we 
heard ‘eight’ counted, Ewing looked right past him 
towards the door of the saloon, same as if he seen 
somebuddy, and he shouts out, quick and sudden- 
like, ‘Millie!’ Jest like that—‘Millie!’ Th’ stran- 
ger give a jump an’ half-turned around—an’ there’s 
where Ewing got him! Right through th’ head! 
"Twas the prettiest shot y’ ever want t’ see! 
‘‘He never looked at th’ feller wonct after that. 
Jest called in th’ sheriff an’ give himself up peace- 
able. 
‘What gits me is just who the feller was an’ why 
he tried to put Ewing out. An’ what was Ewing 
a-hollerin’ that there gal’s name fer. Hit’s shore 
funny. But nobody don’t seem to know nothin’ 
much more than what I tole you.”’ 
I had no doubt, under the circumstances, as to who 
the dead man was, and I wondered whether the out- 
come of his search had helped Ewing to find peace, 
or whether his ill luck still remained, whether the 
