"A volley rings out, an' Bull drops dead, a dozen bullets through him. I wasn't two yards away, but not a shot touched me.
"Then this road-agent, a tall thin galoot, heavily masked, comes down to where I'm standin' alone.
"'It was a dirty bit o' shootin'!' says I, indignant.
"'You've no cause to complain,' says he, 'nothin' hit you! I like your spunk in standin' by your pardner. He seems to ha' been a he-man, too, even if he was a fool. Had he any folks?'
"'A baby girl back in Montana,' I tells him.
"'I'm not robbin' babies,' he says to that. 'She gets my share o' the loot. I give my word. Do you know the address?'
"I reaches down into Bull's coat, takes a letter from it what he'd written to his sister, what was lookin' after the kid, an' hands this bandit the envelope. He reads it, nods an' puts it in his pocket."
"Did he ever send the money?" suddenly interrupted Owens.
"He did. I heard, years after, that the sister received thirty thousand dollars in cash, in a registered letter, sent from Skagway, an' in the envelope a slip o' paper 'From the Chief o' Circle.'"
"What happened next, Jim?" queried Clem, excitedly.