"
"Oh! my bear cub! I'd forgotten him. I wanted to take him home."
"Wal, thar weren't no sense in thet, youngster, fer you couldn't do it. He
was a husky cub."
"I hate to give up my mustang, too. Dick, have you heard of the Greaser?"
"Not yet, but he'll be trailing into Holston before long."
Jim Williams removed his pipe, and puffed a cloud of white smoke.
"Ken, I shore ain't fergot Greaser," he drawled with his slow smile. "Hev
you any pertickler thing you want did to him?"
"Jim, don't kill him!" I burst out, impetuously, and then paused,
frightened out of speech. Why I was afraid of him I did not know, he
seemed so easy-going, so careless--almost sweet, like a woman; but then
I had seen his face once with a look that I could never forget.
"Wal, Ken, I'll dodge Greaser if he ever crosses my trail again."
That promise was a relief. I knew Greaser would come to a bad end, and
certainly would get his just deserts; but I did not want him punished any
more for what he had done to me.
Those last few hours sped like winged moments. We talked and planned a
little, I divided my outfit among my friends, and then it was time for the
train. That limited train had been late, so they said, every day for a
week, and this day it was on time to the minute.
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