Rodney noticed that this missive was written in a handsome business hand.
“You write a handsome hand,” he said.
“I ought to,” was the reply. “I was once bookkeeper in a large business house.”
“And what—” here Rodney hesitated.
“What made me an outlaw you mean to ask?”
“Yes.”
“My nature, I suppose. I wasn’t cut out for sober, humdrum life.”
“Don’t you think you would have been happier?”
“No preaching, kid! I had enough of that when I used to go to church in my old home in Missouri. Here, Caesar!”
“Yes, massa.”