Gabe nodded his head slowly without a word.
"I want it to be clear—right on—from now till the end. I wanted to settle it—an' I guess I could, too." His voice was quiet, but no man could have doubted King's confidence in himself. "But there was a man once who said just what Bill McCartney called me last night—an' I killed him."
It was Gabe's turn to be startled. He took his pipe from his mouth quickly and looked at King with consternation on his face.
"You—you killed him, boy?"
"It seems like I did," King replied slowly. "I never can tell exactly. Something came up in me—something blinded me—an' I struck. When they lifted him up I knew I killed him—I was sure—because I meant to—that's what I tried to do. They told me afterwards—they told me he came round again—he was alive. But I couldn't believe it—he was my brother." King looked out the open doorway for a moment. "I've wondered about that a lot," he said after a long silence. "I think I've prayed about it, too—but I can't get it just right. That's why I left—that's why I came here. I wanted to get away from it—and start in new. I wanted to—to make that right with myself."
Gabe Smith seemed puzzled to understand clearly what King was saying to him.
"Last night," continued King, "it came back again. I thought I was strong enough, but I guess I ain't. When he called me that—it all came back. I went blind again—and I wanted to kill Bill McCartney—only then I remembered, and it took the heart out of me."
"Listen, boy," said Gabe. "Some day you are goin' to forget that—all of it. Some day you are goin' out to fight—an' to fight clean—and to win, and I'll tell you why. There's some of us countin' on you, and you've got to make good—that's why."
King got up and going over to the old man gripped his shoulder in his large powerful hand and looked down into his face.
"You're the first man ever said it to me like that," he said very gravely, and his lips were tight as he spoke, "and I think—I think you can count on me from now on."