“What, again?” and he removed the stem, regarding it sideways. “Now, ther curses of the Mormon gods be on that bowl!” and from that beginning followed an oration, lurid and marvelous. When he had eased his mind he said: “We went down a hole over thayre, an’ I’ll bet it was thin it jounced out. Let’s go and take a bit of a look.” We were both busily turning over the sod and searching, with our faces bent toward the ground, when a voice said: “Well, Murphy?” No sound had heralded any one’s approach. The question came so entirely unexpected we both started and looked up. There, seated in graceful ease upon a mound of grass, was a lean, dark man, with a revolver in his hand. At this sight Tommy stopped rigid, still half stooped. His broad, good-natured face went gray in an instant. His eyes glittered with fear. Twice he opened his mouth to speak, and twice no sound came; but the next time the words poured out in a torrent of frantic haste. “Stephens! I didn’t mane it! Lord God, man! I take it back! Sure yer wouldn’t hold it aginst me! I was wild drunk at th’ time--Fur the love of Heaven, don’t shoot me! I’ve got a wife an’ two childer.” The stranger’s mouth went sideways in an evil smile. “You should have thought of that before, Murphy,” he said slowly. “Yer wouldn’t kill me before the lad, would yer?” the other went on, his lips so dry now that the words were no more than a whisper. Stephens bent toward him with savage quietness, and with the same set, twisted smile. “I told you that I would kill you on sight,” he said, “wherever and whenever that might be, and I am here to do it.” He raised the revolver as he spoke. A great sob stuck in my throat. Through my head went a roaring noise. I looked from the one man to the other in such a sickening ague of fear, that I could not have uttered a sound to save my life. I waited in this suspense for the report that would shut out the cheerful quiet of the day, like a black blot. In that second of deathly silence between the men, the whispering of the breeze and the clanking of the harness of the distant horses seemed loud sounds. Already I saw poor, honest, drunken Tommy lying still upon the ground, looking with dead eyes at the blue above. But I saw a change come over his face, and before I had time to wonder at it he spoke: “Stephens!” he said, “don’t move fur yer life! There’s a rattler widin’ a foot of yer lift elbow!” A contemptuous smile parted Stephens’ lips at what he considered a silly ruse, and then it stopped frozen, leaving him with a face like a mask, and sitting as rigidly motionless as Tommy had stood but a moment ago, for at that instant the devil of the prairie sounded his whirring warning of sudden death at hand. For a while all three of us were paralyzed--then, “Oh, thayre he comes! He’s comin’ in front of yer! Oh Lordy! Lordy! what’ll I do!” shrieked Tommy. “Keep perfectly still,” said Stephens, scarcely moving a muscle of his face. “Where is he now?”