I remember Mr.Hacket told me once that the worst kind of a fool was the man who was conceited over his fighting power and liked to talk about it.

If I ever get that way I hope that I shall have it licked out of me." "I never git conceited--not that I ain't some reason to be," said Mr.
Purvis with a highly serious countenance.

He seemed to have been blind to that disparity between his acts and sayings which had distinguished him in Lickitysplit.
I turned my head away to hide my smiles and we rode on in silence.
"I guess I've got somethin' here that is cocollated to please ye," he said.
He took a letter from his pocket and gave it to me.

My heart beat faster when I observed that the superscription on the envelope was in Sally's handwriting.

The letter, which bore neither signature nor date line, contained these words: "Will you please show this to Mr.Barton Baynes?
I hope it will convince him that there is one who still thinks of the days of the past and of the days that are coming--especially one day." Tears dimmed my eyes as I read and re-read the message.