When the Parson arose the Jumper shook himself loose from the counter, and tilted across to the other side of the room, to give him place.
The stricken man put his hands on the counter, peeked over the bar-keeper's shoulder at his favorite bottle, as if mournfully to a friend, but said not a word. He emptied a glass, and then, without looking right or left, opened the door, and went straight up to the Parsonage. The Parsonage was the name the boys gave to the cottage on the hill among the trees.
"Gone for his two little bull-pups," said Stubbs. That was what the Parson called his silver-mounted derringers.
"There will be a funeral at the Forks to-morrow," gasped the Jumper.
Here the German undertaker arose cheerfully, and went down to his shop.
"Well, Sandy is no sardine. Bet your boots Sandy ain't no sardine!" said Stubbs. "And, any how, he's got the start just a little, if the Parson does nail him. For he's won her heart; and that's a heap, I think, for wimmen's mighty scace in the mines—sumthin' to die for, you bet."
CHAPTER XII.
GRIT.
The Parson was absent for hours, and the Howling Wilderness began to be impatient.