ike he wanted to string out the agony. It was
a clear case uh butchery from start to finish; the damnedest,
lowest-down act a white man could be guilty of. He empties his
six-gun--counting the smoke-puffs--and waits a minute, watching like a
cat does a gopher. I was sweating cold, but I kept my eyes glued to
them glasses like a man in a nightmare.

"When he makes sure the fellow's dead, he rides alongside and flips
off the rope, with the buckskin snorting and edging off--at the
blood-smell, I reckon. While he's coiling his rope, calm as if he'd
just merely roped a yearling, the buckskin gets his head, plants it
and turns on the fireworks.

"When that hoss starts in pitching, I come alive and drop the glasses
into their case and make a jump for my own hoss. If the Lord lets me
come up with that devil, I aim to deal out a case uh justice on my own
hook; I was in a right proper humor for doing him like he done the
other fellow, and not ask no questions. Looked to me like he had it
coming, all right.

"I'd just stuck my toe in the stirrup, when down comes the fog like a
wet blanket on everything. I couldn't see twenty feet--" Andy stopped
and reached for a burning twig to relight his cigarette. The Happy
Family was breathing hard with the spell of the story.

"Did yuh git him?" Happy Jack asked hoarsely. Andy took a long puff at
his cigarette. "Well, I--Holy smoke! what's the matter with _you_,
Blink?" For Blink was leaning forward, half crouched, like a cat about
to pounce, and was glaring fixedly at Andy with lips drawn back in a
snarl. The Happy Family looked, then stared.

Blink relaxed, shrugged his shoulders and grinned unmirthfully. He got
up, pulled up his chaps with the peculiar, hitching gesture which
comes with long practice and grows to be second nature, and stared
back defiantly at the wondering faces lighted by the dancing flames.
He turned his back coolly upon them and walked away to where his horse
stood, took up the reins and stuck his toe in the stirrup, went up and
landed in the saddle ready for anything. Then he wheeled the big
sorrel so that he faced those at the camp-fire.

"A man's a damned fool, Andy Green, to see more than is meant for him
to see. He's plumb crazy to go round blatting all he knows. You won't
tell that tale again, _mi amigo!_"

There was the pop of a pistol, a puff of blue against the gray, and
then the fog reached out and gathered Blink and the sorrel to itself.
Only the cl