Tull has killed a man an' drawed on others.

Your Bishop has shot a half dozen men, an' it wasn't through prayers of his that they recovered.

An' to-day he'd have shot me if he'd been quick enough on the draw.

Could I walk or ride down into Cottonwoods without my guns?
This is a wild time, Jane Withersteen, this year of our Lord eighteen seventy-one." "No time--for a woman!" exclaimed Jane, brokenly.

"Oh, Lassiter, I feel helpless--lost--and don't know where to turn.