"Nolan?" he demanded in surprise.
"Yes, yes; tell me."
"I ain't talkin' about him. I was goin' to tell you something that I 've—"
"That you 've done and now regret? Have you ever—ever killed a man?" she breathed. "Have you?"
"No; yes! Lots of 'em," he confessed, remembering that once she had expressed admiration for brave and daring men. "Most half as many as Hopalong; an' I ain't near as old as him, neither."
"You mean Mr. Cassidy? Why don't you bring him with you some evening? I 'd like to meet him."
"Not me. I went an' brought a friend along once, an' had to lick him th' next day to keep him away from here. He 'd 'a' camped right out there in front if I had n't. No, ma'am; not any."
"Why, the idea! But Mr. Greener's very much like your friend, Mr. Cassidy. He 's very brave, and a wonderful shot. He told me so himself."
"What! He told you so hisself! Well, well. Beggin' yore pardon, he ain't nowise like Hoppy, not even in th' topics of his conversation. Why, he 's a child; an' blinks when he shoots off a gun. Here—can he show a gun like mine?" and forthwith he held out his Colt, butt foremost, and indicated the notches he had cut that afternoon. A fleeting doubt went through his mind at what his outfit would say when it saw those notches. The Bar-20 cut no notches. It wanted to forget.
She looked at them curiously and suddenly drew back. "Oh! Are they—are they?" she whispered.