I'm but a yearlin'. But I make it for those as likes it, and I makes
it good, for it's everybody to his own cemetery, I say. . . . No, I
don't join no Y. W. C. T. U. or nothin,' but one time, when I'm a real
young feller, I'm off on the range for a spell down in Texas, and I
ain't no nature for shavin' or none o' them doo-dads and besides I'd
don't have no razor or no lookin' glass. Wall, six months or so goes
millin' by and finally I comes down into San Antonio one Sataday night.
And right away, havin' at that time what you might call an eddycated
taste for whisky, I makes a charge for the nearest bar and takes on a
dozen or so good snifters, likewise some beverages they calls mint
julips. And durn me, Lady, if in no time everything in that place
ain't a-whizzin' past me like the mill-tails o' hell!

"But I gets my bearin's after while and lays my course for a door to
get some fresh air. Just as I reaches this here door, Lady, a big,
swaggerin' rough-lookin' hombre with a red beard starts to come in.
Wall, I looks him over careful. He likewise gives me a nasty look.
Then polite-like, I steps aside waitin' for him to come through. But
he don't come none, havin' stepped aside too. . . . Wall, by this time
I'm feelin' purty groggy and I makes a bolt for the door again, aimin'
to get through quick; but blamed if that durned son-of-a-gun don't do
identical! Then back I sashays once more and my dander sort o' riz up
in me. 'By the roarin' Jasus,' I yells, 'you lay offen that monkey
business, you consarned whiskery cuss, or I'll fill you so full o'
holes yore own mammy won't know you from a hunk o' cheese. Just one
more crack like that out o' you,' I says, 'and down comes yore
meat-house,' I says. . . . Wall, I got started through the door again,
and by hell, Lady, in spite o' my warnin' o' him, he comes at me again.
So, . . ." Kayak Bill paused the fraction of a second; then his voice
went on with its accustomed languor: "So I just whipped out my little
old .45 and shot him."

Ellen gasped, her big blue eyes opening in horror as she looked into
the serene face of the self-confessed murderer. Kayak Bill, apparently
unconscious of her regard, droned on:

"Yas, I charged full tilt into him shootin' as I went, but instead o'
him a-fallin dead, I finds myself in a shower o' glass, and all the
boys is a-dancin' round me and likin' to die o' laughin' at me. . . .
You see, Lady, that door happens to be one o' them l