When he told of the shooting at Silver Cup, Mescal rose
with heaving bosom and blazing eyes.
"It was nothing--I wasn't hurt much. Only the intention was bad. We saw
no more of Snap or Holderness. The worst of it all was that Snap's wife
died."
"Oh, I am sorry--sorry. Poor Father Naab! How he must hate me, the cause
of it all! But I couldn't stay--I couldn't marry Snap."
"Don't blame yourself, Mescal. What Snap might have done if you had
married him is guesswork. He might have left drink alone a while longer.
But he was bad clean through. I heard Dave Naab tell him that. Snap
would have gone over to Holderness sooner or later. And now he's a
rustler, if not worse."
"Then those men think Snap killed you?"
"Yes."
"What's going to happen when you meet Snap, or any of them?"
"Somebody will be surprised," replied Hare, with a laugh.
"Jack, it's no laughing matter." She fastened her hands in the lapels of
his coat and her eyes grew sad. "You can never hang up your gun again."
"No. But perhaps I can keep out of their way, especially Snap's.
Mescal, you've forgotten Silvermane, and how he can run.
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