I tuck out the ole loads las' night and filled her up weth powder what's shore to go off.

Now you leave that air matter to me, will you ?" "Let me see your revolver," said Albert.
Gray handed it to him, and Charlton examined it a minute, and then, with a sudden resolution, he got to his feet, ran forward a few paces, and hurled the pistol with all his might into the lake.
"Don't let us commit murder," he said, turning round and meeting the excited eyes of the half-insane poet.
"Well, maybe you're right, but I'll be hanged ef I think it's hardly far and squar and gentlemanly to wet a feller's catridges that-a-way." "I had to," said Albert, trembling.

"If I hadn't, you or I would have been a murderer before morning." "Maybe so, but they ain't nothin else to be done.

Ef you don't let me kill the devil, why, then the devil will pack your sister off, and that's the end on't." The moon shone out, and still the boat went sailing up and down the lake, and still the party in the boat laughed and talked and sang merry songs, and still Charlton walked up and down the shore, though almost all the rest of the spectators had gone, and the Poet sat down in helpless dejection.

And still Smith Westcott sat and talked to Katy.