"So—this is th' game—hey?" demanded M'Ginnis hoarsely, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Soapy unwinkingly.
"'S right, Bud. Y' see, I been takin' a peek int' that little tin safe o' yours—say, it looks like you'd had a bit of a rough house, Bud!"
Soapy's cigarette quivered and was still again, while M'Ginnis watched him, breathing thickly but speaking no word, and Soapy went on again:
"I been takin' a peek into that little tin safe o' yours, an' I found some papers you'd been kind o' treasurin' up about me, so I burnt 'em, Bud—not as they mattered very much, there ain't nobody t' worry when I snuff it—but I found as you'd got other papers about other guys as would matter some t' them, I guess—so I burnt 'em too, Bud."
"Burnt 'em!" cried M'Ginnis in a strangled voice, "burnt 'em—you—"
"It ain't no use t' get riled, Bud; I burnt 'em—there's th' ashes!"
M'Ginnis glanced at the heap of ash by the stove and burst into a frenzy of curses and fierce invective, while Soapy, lounging back in the chair, watched him unmoved until he had done, then he spoke again:
"Also I found—letters, Bud, a packet tied up in blue ribbon—an', Bud, they matter a whole lot. Here they are—look at 'em!"
For a moment Soapy's baleful eye turned aside to the desk as he reached for the letters, and in that moment M'Ginnis's pistol spoke, and Soapy, lurching sideways, sagged to his knees, his back against the desk. Again and again M'Ginnis's weapon clicked, but no report followed, and Soapy slowly dragged himself to his feet. His cigarette fell and lay smouldering, and for a moment he stared at it; then he laughed softly and glanced at M'Ginnis.
"You fool, Bud, you dog-gone fool! Forgot t' load up y'r gun, eh? But I guess you got me all right, anyway—you're shootin' better t'night than you did in the wood that time—eh, Bud? Now I want t' tell you—" He was choked suddenly with a ghastly coughing, and when he spoke again, his voice was fainter, and he held a smartly-bordered handkerchief to his mouth.