“Y’u make a mighty purty speech, mister man, but y’u aint on the squar’ jest the same, an’ I--” We never knew what Hosking was going to say; his mouth was slapped so quickly that his intentions became a matter for conjecture. It was impossible to see exactly what happened next--the two men sprang at each other so fiercely. There was a short, sharp struggle, a shot from Hosking’s revolver, that sped harmlessly over the heads of the crowd, lodging in the wall, and Jim, bowie in hand, was bounding toward the open door, leaving his insulter lying upon the floor with a clean cut in his chest through which his life was ebbing away as fast as the escaping blood could carry it! As Jim ran, some one in the crowd fired a shot after him. Everybody rushed to the door, but he was in the saddle and away, amid a shower of pistol balls, which, much to my relief, apparently flew wide of their mark. I was so interested in the safety of the fugitive that I forgot poor Jeff, and, with a pang of remorse, I hastened back to his side, only to find that Poker Jim’s work had been too skillful for any surgeon to undo. The man was dead! * * * * * With the killing of Hosking, well deserved though it may have been, Poker Jim’s popularity was a thing of the past. While under the ban of public sentiment, he had killed a reputable citizen of Jacksonville in a quarrel--he was now an outlaw, upon whose head a price was set. But he was not to be caught. No one supposed that Jim would be mad enough to venture near his cabin, even to see his wife and child, yet the citizens set a watch over the place as a matter of ordinary precaution, and for the purpose of learning her destination whenever his wife should undertake to follow and join her husband. I, meanwhile, saw that Jim’s family wanted for nothing, a duty in which the sentiment of the town duly supported me, for, rude as they were, our people were tender-hearted to a fault. With uncouth yet delicate discernment the boys kept away from the little cabin, hence no visitor but myself ever crossed the threshold. Toppy’s description of Jim’s wife had not been overdrawn--she was indeed beautiful, and as charming a woman as I ever met. She was plucky too--she was apparently not at all uneasy about her husband, and seemed to have perfect confidence in his ability to take care of himself. The child, a boy, resembled his father, and was such a sweet, pretty little fellow that I fell quite in love with him. The little one vaguely recalled to my mind a little curly-headed boy baby that I used to tote about when I was a lad, and who, I thought, was the cutest little brother that a boy ever had. I resolved that Jim’s family should not want a friend as long as I could care for them. Toppy’s loyalty I well knew, and I was therefore sure of being ably seconded on his return from Stockton. But our towns-people were soon to have more important matters to think about than the capture of Poker Jim.