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"I'll do jest as you say, Bill," Anse promised, fervently, and Billy knew that he meant it. "All right, that's a go," he said and went off to the menagerie to feed his pets. "Ain't goin' to kill 'em," his friend replied. "Trigger-Finger Tim never killed his; he took 'em all alive. All he did was crease their skulls with bullets, an' scrape their spines with 'em, an' when they come to they'd find themselves tied hand an' foot, an' Trigger-Finger smokin' his cigarette an' smilin' down on 'em." "Well, he wasn't givin' no signs that you did," Sward returned, "he seemed to me to be tryin' his best to keep from laughin' in your face.".

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His companionship, however, in spite of his beauty, for more reasons than one, must prove, then, as it had proved on other occasions, extremely embarrassing to Miss Acton. Shortly after he had obtained his promotion he arrived home on a visit to his father, and meeting her, fell in love and offered her marriage. But Lucy had much good sense, which is not often allied with so much beauty as she possessed. Her heart admitted his fascination, and she had heard things of him that did him honour; moreover, he was a member of a profession which she adored. But it had come to her knowledge, by avenues difficult to determine,[Pg 40] that he was a gambler and drank without moderation, and that his theory of life and morals was such as deserved severe condemnation as it would surely end in provoking heavy punishment. Eagle stood dumbfounded. He was prepared to hear her represent her state in such fiction as had been preconcerted between her and Mr Lawrence. But he never could have supposed that simulation of madness was the posture of mind she had pre-arranged to feign, and she looked so mad and spoke so madly that it was impossible for such a stubborn, sour old fool to see the truth or know what she meant. "By George!" cried the big man, slapping his friend's knee. "There's a boy for you, Doctor. Why, sir," addressing Stanhope, "not one youngster in a thousand could have done what he did. When he came to us our boat was all but swamped. We had given up. My friend here was utterly helpless with the cold and I was little better. And then he came riding close in like a mere straw on the waves and something flashed past me and fell with a bump against our boat-seat. 'Bale,' he screeched, and I picked up the can he had thrown us and bale I did for all I was worth. Then he came shooting back. 'You got to get out of that trough,' he shouted. 'Throw your painter loose, so's I can grab it as I pass, and I'll straighten your bow to take the seas.'" Aloud he urged: "Come on, Anse. Get Out an' pile into my bed. I ain't scared to sleep in yours, not a bit. Besides," he added, "it'll save you a canin' from Ma.".