“Thet’s the wust of it. When he got clos’t ter me, he turned his face too-ward me. Gee-crymini! how white his face war.”
“What did he say?”
“‘You air ridin’ late, Tim Simpson.’”
“Is that all?”
“Gee-whiz! ain’t thet enough?”
“Why didn’t you shoot him?”
“I war too skeered—I know’d ’twar no mortal man.”
“How did you know?”
“Cuss yer! a woman’s nuthin’ ter yer on the ke-westion. How did I know? Wal, the Trailer’s got a grudge ag’in’ me, an’ ef he’d been a man don’t yer see he’d ’a’ plugged me afore I see’d him? He war a fee-rocious man, thet Trailer, and ef he war alive when I met him, he’d ’a’ sure plugged me. He didn’t, and thet shows he’s dead. Durn it! I know he’s dead; Pedro Felipe killed him in the Land of Silence, over a year ago. I see’d his skeleton onc’t.”
“Halloa!” exclaimed Burt, suddenly. “Look thar!” and he pointed down the river. All eyes followed the direction.