itee to a certain ivint recalled by many here prisint,
an' more that's absent, an' amicablee settled out av coort--"

Up to this time the unhappy Simpson had shown an almost superhuman
endurance. Now he bristled--and after looking up and down the board for a
sympathetic face, and not finding one, he declared, loudly and generally,
"'Tain't so!"

"Ye may have noticed that frind Simpson do be t'reatened wid lockjaw in
the societee av min, but in the prisince av a female ye can't count on
him. Now, talk wid a female is an agreeable, if not a profitable, way av
passin' the toime, but sure ye niver know where it will ind--as witness
Simpson. This lady I'm recallin'--'tis a matther av two years ago--followed
the ancient and honorable profission av biscuit shootin' not far from
Caspar. Siz Simpson to the lady some such passin' civilitee as,
'Good-marnin'; plisent weather we're havin'.' Whereupon the lady filt a
damage to her affictions an' sued him for breach av promise."

"'Twan't that way, at all!" screamed Simpson. "'Sall a lie!"

"Yu ought er said 'Good-evenin'' to the lady, Mistu Simpson; hit make a
diffunce," drawled the man from Texas, pleasantly.

"But 'twas 'Good-marnin'' Simpson made chyce av," resumed Costigan. "An'
the lady replied, 'You've broke my heart.' Whereupon Simpson, havin' a
matther av t'ree thousand dollars to pay for his passin' civilitee,
learned thot silince was goolden."

They all remembered the incident in question, and thundered applause at
the reappearance of an old favorite. Without warning, a shadow fell across
the sunlight-flooded room, and, as one after another of the men glanced up
from the table, they saw standing in the doorway a man of such malignant
aspect that his look fell across the company like a menace. The swing of
their banter slowed suddenly; it was as if the cold of a new-turned grave
had struck across the June sunshine checking their roughshod fun. None of
them had the hardihood to joke with a man that stood in the shadow of
death; and hate and murder looked from the eyes of the man in the doorway
and looked towards Simpson. One by one they perceived the man of the
shadow, all but Simpson, eating steak drowned in Worcestershire.

The man in the doorway was tall and lean, and the prison blench upon his
face was in unpleasant contrast to the ruddy tan of the faces about the
table. His sombrero was tipped back and the hair hung dank about the pale,
sweating forehead, suggesti