By God, it was murder--murder!" Jean's mute lips framed a query easily read.
"Tell him, Blue.

I cain't," continued Blaisdell, and he tramped back into the cabin.
"Set down, Jean, an' take things easy," said Blue, calmly.

"You know we all reckoned we'd git plugged one way or another in this deal.

An' shore it doesn't matter much how a fellar gits it.

All thet ought to bother us is to make shore the other outfit bites the dust--same as your dad had to." Under this man's tranquil presence, all the more quieting because it seemed to be so deadly sure and cool, Jean felt the uplift of his dark spirit, the acceptance of fatality, the mounting control of faculties that must wait.