Kerry's throat ached. In these two weeks he had conceived a love for his big, silent, gentle companion which rivalled even his devotion to Katy. The thought of leaving him helpless and alone, a common prey of reward-hunters, the remembrance of what Andy had said concerning his own despair beneath the terrible pressure of the mountain solitude, were almost more than Kerry could bear. “Fust and foremost, Dan,” the other began, when the meal was finished, “I'm goin' to tell ye how come I done what I done. Likely you've hearn tales, an' likely they was mostly lies. You see, it was this-a-way: Me an' my wife owned land j'inin'. The Turkey Track Minin' Company they found coal on it, an' was wishful to buy. Her an' me wasn't wed then, but we was about to be, an' we j'ined in fer to sell the land an' go West.” His brooding eyes were on the fire; his voice--which had halted before the words “my wife,” then taken them with a quick gulp--broke a little every time he said “she” or “her.” Kerry's heart jumped when he heard the mention of that little Western farm--why, it might have been in the very locality he and Katy looked longingly toward. “That feller they sent down here fer to buy the ground--Dickert was his name; you've hearn it, I reckon?” Kerry recognized the murdered man's name. He nodded, without a word, his little blue eyes helplessly fastened on Andy's eyes. “Yes, Dickert 'twas. He was took with Euola from the time he put eyes on her--which ain't sayin' more of him than of any man 'at see her. But a town feller's hangin' round a mounting-gal hain't no credit to her. Euola she was promised to me. But ef she hadn't 'a' been, she wouldn't 'a' took no passin' o' bows an' complyments from that Dickert. I thort the nighest way out on't was to tell the gentleman that her an' me was to be wed, an' that we'd make the deeds as man an' wife, an' I done so.” Kerry looked at his host and wondered that any man should hope to tamper with the affections of her who loved him. “Wed we was,” the mountain-man went on; and an imperceptible pause followed the words. “We rid down to Garyville to be wed, an' we went from the jestice's office to the office of this here Dickert. He had a cuss with him that was no better'n him; an' when it come to the time in the signin' that our names was put down, an' my wife was to be 'examined privately and apart'--ez is right an' lawful--ez to whether I'd made her sign or not, this other cuss steps with her into the hall, an' Dickert turns an' says to me, 'You git a thousand dollars each fer your land--you an' that woman,' he says. “I never liked the way he spoke--besides what he said; an' I says to him, 'The bargain was made fer five thousand dollars apiece,' says I, 'an' why do we git less?'