I had but to look at
Jim's eyes, narrow slits of blue fire, at the hard jaw and tight lips, to
see a glimpse of the man who thought nothing of life. It turned me sick,
and I was all in a tremor till Dick and Hiram had the men bound fast.
Then Jim dropped the long, blue guns into the holsters on his belt.
"Ken, I shore am glad to see you," said he.
The soft, drawling voice, the sleepy smile, the careless good-will all came
back, utterly transforming the man. This was the Jim Williams I had come to
love. With a wrench I recovered myself.
"Are you all right, Ken?" asked Dick. And old Hiram questioned me with a
worried look. This anxiety marked the difference between these men and
Williams. I hastened to assure my friends that I was none the worse for my
captivity.
"Ken, your little gun doesn't shoot where it points," said Jim. "I shore
had a bead on the Greaser an' missed him. First Greaser I ever missed."
"You shot his ear off," I replied. "He came running back covered with
blood. I never saw a man so scared."
"Wal, I shore am glad," drawled Jim.
"He made off with your mustang," said Dick.
This information lessened my gladness at Greaser's escape. Still, I would
rather have had him get away on my horse than stay to be shot by Jim.
Dick called me to go outside with him.
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