and, withal, it was of the hue of lead. "There," said
Scully, tenderly, "that's the picter of my little girl that died. Her
name was Carrie. She had the purtiest hair you ever saw! I was that
fond of her, she--"

Turning then, he saw that the Swede was not contemplating the picture
at all, but, instead, was keeping keen watch on the gloom in the rear.

"Look, man!" cried Scully, heartily. "That's the picter of my little
gal that died. Her name was Carrie. And then here's the picter of my
oldest boy, Michael. He's a lawyer in Lincoln, an' doin' well. I gave
that boy a grand eddycation, and I'm glad for it now. He's a fine boy.
Look at 'im now. Ain't he bold as blazes, him there in Lincoln, an
honored an' respicted gintleman. An honored an' respicted gintleman,"
concluded Scully with a flourish. And, so saying, he smote the Swede
jovially on the back.

The Swede faintly smiled.

"Now," said the old man, "there's only one more thing." He dropped
suddenly to the floor and thrust his head beneath the bed. The Swede
could hear his muffled voice. "I'd keep it under me piller if it
wasn't for that boy Johnnie. Then there's the old woman--Where is it
now? I never put it twice in the same place. Ah, now come out with
you!"

Presently he backed clumsily from under the bed, dragging with him an
old coat rolled into a bundle. "I've fetched him," he muttered.
Kneeling on the floor, he unrolled the coat and extracted from its
heart a large yellow-brown whiskey bottle.

His first maneuver was to hold the bottle up to the light. Reassured,
apparently, that nobody had been tampering with it, he thrust it with
a generous movement towards the Swede.

The weak-kneed Swede was about to eagerly clutch this element of
strength, but he suddenly jerked his hand away and cast a look of
horror upon Scully.

"Drink," said the old man affectionately. He had risen to his feet,
and now stood facing the Swede.

There was a silence. Then again Scully said: "Drink!"

The Swede laughed wildly. He grabbed the bottle, put it to his mouth,
and as his lips curled absurdly around the opening and his throat
worked, he kept his glance, burning with hatred, upon the old man's
face.

IV

After the departure of Scully the three men, with the card-board still
upon their knees, preserved for a long time an astounded silence. Then
Johnnie said: "That's the dod-dangest Swede I ever see."

"He ain't no Swede," said the cowboy, scornfully.

"We