I knew, too, that nothin' short of hell would stop his proselytin'.

An' I rode from town to town.

I had a blind faith that somethin' was guidin' me.

An' as the weeks an' months went by I growed into a strange sort of a man, I guess.
Anyway, people were afraid of me.

Two years after that, way over in a corner of Texas, I struck a town where my man had been.