"You did, else you'd have been with her now. She was always good t' you, Hermy was, but you—well, you preferred Bud!"
"I didn't, Soapy; God knows I didn't—only—I thought Bud would make me a champion—"
"By gettin' ye soused, Kid!"
"Oh, I know—I know now he's only been stringin' me all along—I know now it's too late—that's why I'm goin' t' kill him."
"Kill him!" mused Soapy. "Kid, there's good killings an' bad killin's, an' I reckon this 'ud be a good killin', maybe. But this ain't your job."
"Why—why ain't it?"
"Well, you got a sister f'r one thing, an' besides, you ain't a killer."
"You gimme that gun an' see!" cried the lad, reaching out a hand tremulous and eager.
"When the time came, Kid, 'stead o' shootin', you'd drop your gun like that time in th' wood."
"Th' wood!" Spike's voice dropped to a strangled whisper and he shrank back against the fence. "You—my God, you—saw—!"