You're the man who shot Jim Eberly." Mr.Hampton was never of a pronounced emotional nature, nor was he a person easily disconcerted, yet he flushed at the sound of these impulsive words, and the confident smile deserted his lips.

For a moment they sat thus, the dead body lying between, and looked at each other.

When the man finally broke the constrained silence a deeper intonation had crept into his voice.
"My girl," he said gravely, and not without a suspicion of pleading, "this is no place for me to attempt any defence of a shooting affray in a gambling-house, although I might plead with some justice that Eberly enjoyed the honor of shooting first.

I was not aware of your personal feeling in the matter, or I might have permitted some one else to come here in my stead.

Now it is too late.