heart has
dragged me against the buffeting waves of the sea of life or held me
helpless in the trough as storm crests broke over me in my misery. A man
marked with the brand which God placed upon Cain for the murder of his
brother, yet I was exonerated by the jury. I shot Les McAvoy in the
discharge of my duty. I was a mere boy, without money, scantily clad, in
search of wealth with which to support my mother, and had to accept the
only opportunity presented in that lawless mining camp. I had no tools
or trade and was not strong enough to do the work required of miners,
and the camp had not advanced far enough to give employment to the
ordinary run of commercial wage earners. It was instilled into me in
early life to do my duty in whatever capacity I served, under all
circumstances, and I considered it my duty to protect that gambling
table even at the risk of my own life. The years of mental anguish which
I have lived since that fatal moment, and the years which my poor old
mother has had her head bowed in sorrow"--

"Wait a moment, Mr. Lillis," interrupted Cal. "You did not kill Les
McAvoy."

"What is that--you say I did not? Oh! I wish--it is good of you to try
to erase the stigma, but the evidence, the facts, the coroner's verdict,
'at the hands of Bert Lillis.' Oh, no, no"--sadly commented Lillis.

"Mr. Lillis, I will prove to you what I say is truth, and if the grave
of Les McAvoy has remained untouched all these years, the evidence is in
the coffin," replied Cal.

"Tell it! tell it! prove, first, that you were there; describe the
scene"--

"You were dealing, you raised a Colt's old-fashioned, powder-and-ball
navy six-shooter from yer lap"--

"Yes, I had cleaned up that old gun and loaded it with fresh powder,
ball and new caps that day. They told me to"--interrupted Mr. Lillis.

"Sam Tupper sat in a chair on top of a dry-goods box; he was lookout. A
man with mustache, dead black, like India ink. Les did not like your
remarks and started to rise up in his chair, his hand goin' to his
pistol pocket. You lifted that big Colt's with both hands and as soon as
the muzzle of it was pintin' up and away from your own body you pulled
the trigger. Les had his own weapon out; you saw it, was frightened,
dropped your own gun and tried to slip under the table. As you went down
Les placed the muzzle of his gun agin yer eye and cut loose. While this
was goin' on Tupper never moved until he saw a chanst to open a drawer,