"I've said it. And he saved my life, too. But when I look at yer, I get to thinking." His voice sank to a hoarse whisper. "I think lots, nights. He comes back to ye alone, through them trees, and there's one place where the pine needles is thick as moss. And I mind me what a Dago told me onst. He'd killed his man, he had, stabbed him from behind with a knife he showed me: jest an ordinary knife, only sharp. An' he told me how he done it, whar to strike--savvy? It goes in slick!"
He stopped, seeing that Mamie was regarding him with wide-eyed horror and consternation.
"Dennis!"
"Yes, my name's Dennis, right enough. That's the trouble. I hav'n't the nerve to kill Barker, and you hav'n't the nerve to skip off with me. Were two of a kind, Mamie, scairt to death of what comes after death. And you know it. So long!"
She caught at his arm.
"You ain't a-goin' to leave the inlet?"
"It's a mighty big country, this," Dennis replied austerely; "but I've a notion it ain't quite big enough for Barker an' me. So long!"
"I'm comin' up to-morrer, Dennis, to see 'em run the last rapid. Mebbe you was fullish to leave the range?"
He marked the interrogation in her tone, and answered, for him, almost roughly--
"Mebbe I was, but not so fullish as you by a long sight!"