"I am," said the other.

"I think you must be a stranger in the country, otherwise I'd know your face," continued Nelly--"but maybe you're a relation of theirs." "I am a stranger," said the other; "but no relation." "The Daltons," proceeded Nelly, "are daicent people,--but hot and hasty, as the savin' is.

It's the blow before the word wid them always." "Ah, tut they say," returned her companion, "that a hasty heart was never a bad one." "Many a piece o' nonsense they say as well as that," rejoined Nelly; "I know them that 'ud put a knife into your heart hastily enough--ay, an' give you a hasty death, into the bargain.

They'll first break your head--cut you to the skull, and then, indeed, they'll give you a plaisther.

That was ever an' always the carrecther of the same Daltons; an', if all accounts be thrue, the hand of God is upon them, an' will be upon them till the bloody deed is brought to light." "How is that ?" inquired the other, with intense interest, whilst her eyes became riveted upon Nelly's hard features.
"Why, a murdher that was committed betther than twenty years ago in this neighborhood." "A murdher!" exclaimed the stranger.