"My deah fellow, you don't—aw—mean to say you were alone?"
"Injuns can shoot," said I, "but they cayn't hit."
"Two of my men are dead and the third is dying. I defer to your—er—experience, but I thought they could—er—hit."
Then I began to reckon I'd been some hazardous in my actions. It made me sweat to think.
"Well," said I, to be civil, "I cal'late I'd best introduce myself to you-all. My name's Davies."
"I'm Lord Balshannon," said he, mighty polite.
"And I'm the Honourable Jim du Chesnay," squeaked the kid.
I took his paw and said I was proud to know a warrior with such heap big names. The man laughed.
"Wall, Mister Balshannon," says I, "your horses is remnants, and the near fore wheel of that waggon is sprung to bust, and them Apaches has chipped your laig, which it's broke out bleeding again, so I reckon——"
"You have an eye for detail," he says, laughing; "but if you will excuse me now, I'm rather busy."