He put out his big hand, quickly.
I expected to see a big pistol in it, but no, it was empty.
"How glad I am, mister, to hear that," he said. "I've been shaking in my boots all this yer time thinkin' ye was that land pirate an' meant to murder me, 'cause they say he's even an uglier cuss than me. Shake hands, mister. I declar ye've taken a mighty big load off'n my mind."
I shook hands with the delighted fellow, but lacked the nerve to tell him how badly scared I had been.
But I'm not so proud of my honest looks nowadays.
Whenever I hear a good story in connection with some person of note, I always enjoy it more if I happen to know the party.
They told me about Richard Harding Davis the other night at the club, which amused me not a little.
Ever hear of his adventures with the bull?
Well, it runs something like this, and those who happen to be honored with a personal acquaintance with the famous young American author will appreciate its point best.