“At last, twenty years afterward, when he was gettin’ on in life, his time came. He was ridin’ along, not thinkin’ about anything in particular, when he happened to look up, an’ there, comin’ toward him roun’ a bend in the road, an’ ridin’ on a big black horse, was the man he’d waited for all these years. They knowed each other the minute their eyes met, an’ the fellow got white as chalk an’ pulled his horse clean back on his haunches, tryin’ to turn roun’ an’ make a run for it, but it wasn’t no good, for Jim was off his horse in a minute an’ had him by the throat, an’ in less time than it takes to tell it, he had pulled him down, cursin’ an’ cuttin’ at him, to the ground. Then, holdin’ him there, with his knee on his breast an’ his knife at his throat, he says: “‘Where’s Milly? Tell me, or I’ll cut your devilish heart out!’ “The fellow glared back at him like a rat in a trap, an’ seein’ death in his eyes, an’ knowing ’twas no use to lie, says: “‘She’s dead; she got sick when we got to New York, an’ I left her, an’ she died in a week.’ “‘I’d orter kill you like a snake, but I’ve always lived square, an’ the Lord helpin’ me, I’ll die that way, so I’ll give you an even chance. Get out your knife an’ fight, an’ remember that one of us has got to die right here.’ “Then he let him up, and they went at it. They was pretty evenly matched to look at ’em, but Jim thought of Milly dyin’ all alone, an’ fought like a tiger, an’ pretty soon he left the man that had come between ’em stiff an’ stark with a knife in his heart, an’ his white face a-glarin’ up at the sky. “Then comes in the part of the story that I want you all to take for a warnin’, before you’ll be so quick to find any man guilty on nothin’ but circumstantial evidence. When the body was found, nobody ever thought of ’spicionin’ Jim, but everything pointed to another man as the one who had done the killin’. He’d sworn to kill the dead man; he was on the hunt for him when last seen, an’ he couldn’t prove no alibi. So they arrested him, and the first Jim heard of it he was summonsed on the jury that was to try him. Jim hadn’t never thought of giving himself up for a murder, for he knowed he’d fought and killed his enemy fair an’ square, an’ he was glad he done it. He didn’t see that it was any business of the law’s to interfere between ’em, and he didn’t like to drag in Milly’s name before the judge an’ jury an’ all the people who wouldn’t remember, like he did, when he was young an’ innocent. Even when he was summonsed, he didn’t have any notion but he would be cleared when they’d look into things some, an’ he made up his mind not to say nothin’ if he could help it.