"Well, after that, the devil was to pay. She kept me in Hell and hot water, and we got along like a cat and a dog. Each day, from sunrise until long after it had set, I asked Jesus whether I could hold out to the end. I had declared to his Holy Name, that I had taken that woman to live with for better or for worse; but surely I was getting the worst of it. And then, at last, it came to the point when it was beyond human endurance. She took to shooting at me for the fun of it." "Good Lord!" exclaimed Wyeth. "You don't mean to say that she shot at you!" "No," he replied calmly, "she didn't _shoot_ at me; she _shot_ at me, and not once, but any old time she felt like it, which was more than once, by many, many times," he soliloquized, grimly. "Good night!" "Yes; she shot at me as though it were no more than throwing hot water on a bunch of rats." "Save me Jesus!" "Then one day I shot at her." "Hush!" "Yes, I shot at her and tried to hit, but I am thankful the good Lord was with us both against ourselves, I missed. I think I was too much excited." "Deliver me!" "It was a few days after we had had a big row for sure, and she had declared she would kill me." Wyeth looked helpless. Slim smiled grimly, and went on: "It was about my first wife. I had an enlarged picture of her that hung on the wall, and this devil had been eyeing it with apparent disfavor. That day, she stood directly under it, looking up at it with a double ax concealed in her skirt. I knew she had the ax, and watched her. I swore to myself that the day of Pentecost had come. If she touched my dead wife's picture, I would kill her on the spot." "Be merciful, Coleman!" "Yes, yes," he said, in a terrible voice. "I would have done so too, you can bet your last dollar on that. "She kept looking up at it, and muttering in a low tone. I heard her say: 'I've a notion to tear you to pieces!' I decided that I would tell her, and in so doing give her one chance, a last chance to continue life in this world. So I said: 'Woman, woman, if you touch that picture, get ready to die, for, just as sure as I'm a nigga, I'm going to put your lights out!' Those were terrible days, terrible days," he sighed wearily, and for the first time since Wyeth had known him, he felt a pang of sorrow for him. He was serious. Presently he resumed: "She went out without a word--she was always dangerous when she said nothing--and returned presently, with a brand new, great big pistol, and, without a word she began shooting. She and I then had it. She with the gun and me a-running, while she pulled the trigger, and run me all over that farm.