He jerked something from his pocket and put it into Jim’s hand. It was a gold cigarette-case, with an inscription worked in small diamonds: “To Colorado Jim from his chums.” Jim stood gazing at this token of their regard. He hated 13 sentiment, and yet was as big a victim of it as anyone. When he spoke his great voice wavered.
“I’m going a hell of a distance before I find boys like you. I wish I wasn’t going. I—wish——”
He grabbed Ned’s hand quickly, and then that of each of the other men, and jumped into the coach. They understood the emotion in the big heart of him. Rob started the team and away went the coach in a cloud of dust. Hats went up in the air and revolvers barked.
“Good-bye, Colorado Jim! Good-bye!”
Emily at the door, clasping the fifty-dollar note in her grimy paw, waited until the coach was a mere dot in the distance. Then she rubbed a sorrowful eye.
“Gee, but he was jest wonderful!” she moaned.