"You know what I mean, Bruce. You've always played square with everybody 'round here, not mindin' a great deal about what other folks done so long as they was open an' honest about it. You've never stole calves, you've never been in trouble with your neighbors--" "Hold on, Benny! You don't know how many calves I've stole." The other smiled and put aside Bayard's attempt at levity with a gesture of one hand. "You understand how it is, when a fellar's just got to talk?" "I understand," said Bayard. "I've been in that fix myself, recent." "I knew you would; that's why I come." He shifted on the box and pulled his hat down over his eyes and said: "I tried to kill a feller th' other night. I didn't make good. I'm likely to make another try some time, an' go through with it." Bayard waited for more, with a queer thrill of realization. "You know this pup Lytton, don't you, Bruce? Yes, everybody does, th' ----! I tried to get him th' other night in Yavapai. I thought I'd done it an' lit out, but I heard later I only nicked his arm. That means I've got to do it later." "It's that necessary to kill him, is it, Benny?" Bayard asked. "I know he was hit.... Fact is, I found him an' took him into th' Hotel an' fixed him up." Their gazes met. Benny Lynch's was peculiarly devoid of anger, steady and frank. "That was like you, Bruce. You'd take care of a sick wolf, I guess. Next time, though, I'll give somebody a job as a gravedigger, 'stead of a good Samaritan.... "But what I stopped in to-day for was to tell you th' whole story, so you'd know it all." "Let her fly, Benny!" "Prob'ly you know, Bruce, that I come out here from Tennessee, when I was only a spindly kid, with th' old man an' my mammy. We was th' last of our family. They'd feuded our folks down to 'n old man 'n old woman and a kid--me. We come 'cause th' old man got religion and moved west so he wouldn't have to kill nobody. I s'pose some back there claims to have druv him out, but they either didn't know him or they're lyin'. He'd never be druv out by fear, Bruce; he wasn't that kind. "Well, we drifted through Colorado an' New Mex an' finally over here. We landed out yonder on th' Sunset group which th' old man located an' commenced to work. I growed up there, Bruce. I helped my mammy an' my pap cut down trees an' pick up stone to make our house. I built my mammy's coffin myself when I was seventeen. Me an' pap buried her; me shovelin' in dirt an' rocks, him prayin' an' readin' out of th' Bible." He paused to overcome the shaking of his voice. "We hung on there an' was doin' right well with th' mine, workin' out a spell now an' then, goin' back an' developin' as long as our grub an' powder lasted. We got her right to where we thought she was ready to boom, when hard times come along, an' made us slow up. I started out, leavin' th' old man home, 'cause he was gettin' so old he wasn't much use anywhere an' it ain't right that old folks should work that way anyhow.