"Twice!" he soliloquized. "Twice in th' hat! He was close up, th' murderin' coyote--sneaked up on top of me when I was so far away from th' mountain I had plumb forgot him. Sneaked up to th' other side of that brush--couldn't 'a' been forty feet away--an' he missed _again_! You can't tell me he didn't aim to miss, not _this_ time. An' I'm dead shore he aimed to miss me that other time. Why? Because he didn't want to hit me, _yet_! It was a warnin', it was. He says plain: 'Smitty, you ain't wanted around here no more. I'm warnin' you th' second time. But, mebby, th' third time I won't miss.' I'm sayin' there won't be no third time. Practice makes perfect, an' _I_ ain't no target. He won't score no bulls-eye on _me_! Big Tom says it's a joke; all right; but if it is, it ain't goin' no further. An' th' reason is, _I_ am. _I_'m goin' further, an' I ain't comin' back. I ain't even wastin' time to go back to th' house for my war bag, an' have to give 'em an argument about quittin'. There ain't much pay a-comin' to me--none, when I pays up what I owe--an' I'm callin' everythin' square, all around. Pore Squint! Huh; I'd rather be able to say 'Pore Squint' than hang around here till somebody up an' says 'Pore Smitty.' This here country ain't fit for a dog no more an' I'm goin' to find one that is. Keep a-goin', you long-laigged rabbit!" He whirled over the rocky hump below the historic stone benches on Pine Mountain and streaked toward Gunsight, seeing the Doc come to the door of the shack and wave at him. The Doc was haggard and sallow, nervous and poorly nourished after an unfavorable bout with his worst enemy, and leaned weakly against the door casing as he watched the hard-riding puncher whirl toward him. He made up his mind that if Big Tom wanted to see him, Mahomet could come to the mountain, for he was in no condition to go afield. To his surprise and great relief, Smitty followed the bend in the trail and headed to ride past. Then it was that Doc waved again.