"The old witch said I was to meet with many misfortunes, pass a dreadful
crisis, and then come out with flying colors.
"But I'm a gittin' ahead of my story. My sister--I had but one--was to
make a mismatch with a gambler and outlaw. He was to cause her and me a
heap o' trouble. Finally the husban' was ter plot ter put his wife outen
the way so't he could git another gal with a big fortune."
"Nonsense."
"Don't interrupt me," growled the tramp. "I'm jest a tellin' what the
fortune-teller said; 'tain't none o' my gammon."
"Go on."
A smile curled the lip of Barkswell.
"Wal, thar ain't a half more to tell. This chap, my sister's husban', was
wishin' to get rid of his wife, but in makin' the attempt he ruined
himself, and I was ter see the chap hung fur the murder."
"Then he _does_ succeed."
The keen eyes of Barkswell regarded the man before him fixedly,
penetratingly.
"No!" hissed the tramp.
"Men do not hang for attempting murder."
"Don't they? Pardner, let me tell you that you won't live arter you
_attempt_ to murder Iris."
"What do you mean?"
"I know ye, Andy Barkswell--know what yer scheming brain hez concocted.
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