"But you must not do that!" she cried. "Why, that’s terrible! You shouldn’t even think of such things." "Well, of course—if yo ’re agin’ it I wont." "But what did he do?" "Oh, I don’t reckon I can tell that. But do you really want him to live?" "Why, certainly! What a foolish question." "But why do you? Do you—_like_ him?" "I like everybody." "Yes; an’ everybody likes you, too," he growled, the smile fading. "That’s th’ trouble. Do you like him very much?" "I wish you wouldn’t ask such foolish questions." "Yes; I know. But do you?" "I prefer not to answer." "Huh! That’s an answer in itself. You do." "I don’t think you ’re very nice tonight," she retorted, a little pout spoiling the bow in her lips. "You ’re awfully jealous, and I don’t like it." "Gee! Don’t like it! I should think you ’d want me to be jealous. I only wish you was jealous of _me_. Norah, I ’ve just got to say it now, an’ find out—" "Yes; tell me," she interrupted eagerly. "What _did_ he do?" "Who?" "Mr. Nolan, of course." "Nolan?" he demanded in surprise. "Yes, yes; tell me." "I ain’t talkin’ about him. I was goin’ to tell you something that I ’ve—" "That you ’ve done and now regret? Have you ever—ever killed a man?" she breathed. "Have you?" "No; _yes_! Lots of ’em," he confessed, remembering that once she had expressed admiration for brave and daring men. "Most half as many as Hopalong; an’ I ain’t near as old as him, neither." "You mean Mr. Cassidy? Why don’t you bring him with you some evening? I ’d like to meet him." "Not _me_. I went an’ brought a friend along once, an’ had to lick him th’ next day to keep him away from here. He ’d ’a’ camped right out there in front if I had n’t. No, ma’am; not any." "Why, the idea! But Mr. Greener’s very much like your friend, Mr. Cassidy. He ’s very brave, and a wonderful shot. He told me so himself." "What! He told you so hisself! Well, well. Beggin’ yore pardon, he ain’t nowise like Hoppy, not even in th’ topics of his conversation. Why, he ’s a child; an’ blinks when he shoots off a gun. Here—can he show a gun like mine?" and forthwith he held out his Colt, butt foremost, and indicated the notches he had cut that afternoon. A fleeting doubt went through his mind at what his outfit would say when it saw those notches. The Bar-20 cut no notches. It wanted to forget. She looked at them curiously and suddenly drew back. "Oh! Are they—_are_ they?" she whispered. He nodded: "They are. There is plenty of room for Nolan’s, an’ mebby his owner, too," he suggested. "Can’t you see, Norah?" he asked in a swift change of tone. "Can’t you see? Don’t you know how much I—" "Yes. It must be terrible to have such remorse," she quickly interposed. "And I sympathize with you deeply, too." "Remorse nothin’! Them fellers was lookin’ for it, an’ they got just what they deserved. If I had n’t ’a’ done it somebody else would."