The Friars face lighted. “Oh, that’s all right,” sez he in a relieved tone. “As long as you have a special grievance again’ me, why, it’s perfectly natural for you to act up to it. It wouldn’t be natural for most men to act up to it in just this way, but still it’s normal; while for a man to set his dogs on a total stranger would be monstrous. I’m glad to know ’at you had some excuse; but as far as hoss-stealin’ goes, that roan is back with your band again. I saw him as I came along.”
Ty was somewhat flabbergasted. He wasn’t used to havin’ folks try out his conduct and comment on it right to his face; and especially was he shocked to have his morals praised by a preacher. He knew ’at such a reception as had just been handed to the Friar would have taken the starch out o’ most men an’ filled ’em with a desire for revenge ever after; but he could see that the Friar was not thinkin’ of what had been handed to him, he was actually interested in himself, Ty Jones, and was honestly tryin’ to see how it was possible for such a condition to exist; and this set Ty Jones back on his haunches for true.
“For all time to come,” he sez slow and raspy, “I want you to leave my stuff alone. If you ever catch up and ride one of my hosses again, I’ll get your hide; and I don’t even want you on my land.”
Then the Friar stiffened up; any one in the world, or any thing, had the right to impose upon the Friar as a man; but when they tried to interfere with what he spoke of as his callin’, why, he swelled up noticeable. The Friar’s humility was genuine, all right; but it was about four times stiffer an’ spikier than any pride I’ve ever met up with yet.
“I shall not ride your hosses,” sez he, scornful, “nor shall I tread upon your land, nor shall I breathe your air, nor drink your water; but in the future, as in the past, I shall use for the Lord only those things which belong to the Lord. The things which are the Lord’s were His from the beginning, the things which you call yours are merely entrusted to your care for a day or an hour or a moment. I do not covet your paltry treasures, I covet your soul and I intend to fight you for it from this day forward.”
The Friar spoke in a low, earnest tone; and Ty Jones stared at him. Ya know how earnest an insane man gets? Well, the’ was something o’ this in the Friar when he was talkin’ business. You felt that he believed that what he was sayin’ was the truth, and you felt that if it was the truth, it was mighty well worth heedin’, and you also felt that in spite of its bein’ so everlastin’ different from the usual view o’ things, it might actually be the truth after all and a risky thing to pass up careless.
After waitin’ a minute without gettin’ a reply, the Friar turned on his heel to walk away, stumbled, and slipped to the ground, and then they noticed a pool of blood which had dripped from him as he stood. He had forgotten that the dog had torn him, an’ the men had looked into his eyes, as men always did when he talked, and they had forgot it, too. Now, when he fell, Olaf the Swede stepped forward to help him up.
Olaf was the best man ’at Ty Jones had, from Ty’s own standpoint. Ty had happened to be over at Skelty’s one night when Skelty was givin’ a dance. Skelty had six girls at this time, an’ he used to give a dance about once a week. Along about midnight, they got to be purty lively affairs. This night Skelty had bragged what a fine shot he was, an’ the boys were kiddin’ him about it, because Skelty wasn’t no shot at all as a rule. It was a moonlight night, and while they was sheepin’ Skelty about his shootin’, two strangers rode up, tied their hosses to the corral, an’ started up the path toward the door.
Skelty looked at ’em an’ sez, “Why, if I had a mind to, I could pick one o’ those fellers off with this gun as easy as I could scratch my nose.” He pulled his gun and held it over his shoulder.
All the boys fair hooted, an’ Skelty dropped his gun an’ shot one o’ the strangers dead in his tracks. The other came along on the run with Skelty shootin’ at him as fast as he could pop; but he only shot him once, through the leg, and he limped in an’ made for Skelty with his bare hands. Skelty hit him in the forehead, knocked him down an’ jumped on him. He kept on beatin’ him over the head until the stranger managed to get a grip on his wrists. He held one hand still, an’ puttin’ the other into his mouth, bit off the thumb.