Boone stood trembling like an ague victim. It was no light matter for him to give so binding a pledge.
"No Gregory ner no Wellver hain't nuver died on ther gallows tree yit," he faltered. "Thar's two things I'd done swore ter do. One of 'em was ter git Saul. I reckon, though, thet could wait."
"What is the other thing?"
"Thet afore they hangs him—some fashion or other—I've got ter git a gun in thar ter Asa ... so he kin kill hisself. Hit hain't fitten thet he should die by a rope like a common feller!"
The emotion-laden voice became almost shrill. "Even ther Carrs an' Blairs don't hang. They come nigh ter hangin' one oncet, but a kinsman saved him."
"How?" inquired McCalloway, and the boy responded gravely:
"He lay up on ther hillside an' shot his uncle ter death as they was takin' him from the jail-house ter ther gallows."
Truly, reflected the soldier, he was modelling with grim and stiff clay, but he only said:
"Promise me that, as to Saul, you will wait—until you are twenty-one."
Boone did not reply for five full minutes, but at the end of that time he nodded his head. "I kain't deny ye nothin', atter what ye've done fer me," he assented briefly.