didn't want to see me go to jail on account of a feller like
him. She talked to me like a Dutch uncle, and put her head so clost I
could feel them bangs a ticklin' my ear. But that's done with; she can
tickle all the ears she wants to tickle, but she'll never tickle mine no
more. And all the time she was talkin' to me like that, where do you
reckon that Jedlick feller was at?"

"In the saloon, I guess, firin' up."

"No, he wasn't, Duke. He was settin' right in that _ho_-tel, with his
old flat feet under the table, shovelin' in pie. He come out pickin' his
teeth purty soon, standin' there by the door, dern him, like he owned
the dump. Well, he may, for all I know. Alta she inched away from me,
and she says to him: 'Mr. Jedlick, come over here and shake hands with
Mr. Wilson.'

"'Yes,' he says, 'I'll shake insect powder on his grave!'

"'I see you doin' it,' I says, 'you long-hungry and half-full! If you
ever make a pass at me you'll swaller wind so fast you'll bust.' Well,
he begun to shuffle and prance and cut up like a boy makin' faces, and
there's where Alta she ducked in through the parlor winder. 'Don't hurt
him, Mr. Jedlick,' she says; 'please don't hurt him!'

"'I'll chaw him up as fine as cat hair and blow him out through my
teeth,' Jedlick told her. And there's where I started after that feller.
He was standin' in front of the door all the time, where he could duck
inside if he saw me comin', and I guess he would 'a' ducked if Wood
hadn't 'a' been there. When he saw Wood, old Jedlick pulled his gun.

"I slung down on him time enough to blow him in two, and pulled on my
trigger, not aimin' to hurt the old sooner, only to snap a bullet
between his toes, but she wouldn't work. Old Jedlick he was so rattled
at the sight of that gun in my hand he banged loose, slap through the
winder into that box of plug back of the counter. I pulled on her and
pulled on her, but she wouldn't snap, and I was yankin' at the hammer to
cock her when he tore loose with that second shot. That's when I found
out what the matter was with that old gun of mine."

Taterleg was so moved at this passage that he seemed to run out of
words. He rode along in silence until they reached the top of the hill,
and the house on the mesa stood before them, dark and lonesome. Then he
pulled out his gun and handed it across to the Duke.

"Run your thumb over the hammer of that gun, Duke," he said.

"Well! What in the world--it feels like chewin'