out of their way."

"Bern, who is Lassiter? He's only a name to me--a terrible name."

"Who is he? I don't know, Jane. Nobody I ever met knows him. He
talks a little like a Texan, like Milly Erne. Did you note that?"

"Yes. How strange of him to know of her! And she lived here ten
years and has been dead two. Bern, what do you know of Lassiter?
Tell me what he has done--why you spoke of him to
Tull--threatening to become another Lassiter yourself?"

"Jane, I only heard things, rumors, stories, most of which I
disbelieved. At Glaze his name was known, but none of the riders
or ranchers I knew there ever met him. At Stone Bridge I never
heard him mentioned. But at Sterling and villages north of there
he was spoken of often. I've never been in a village which he had
been known to visit. There were many conflicting stories about
him and his doings. Some said he had shot up this and that Mormon
village, and others denied it. I'm inclined to believe he has,
and you know how Mormons hide the truth. But there was one
feature about Lassiter upon which all agree--that he was what
riders in this country call a gun-man. He's a man with a
marvelous quickness and accuracy in the use of a Colt. And now
that I've seen him I know more. Lassiter was born without fear. I
watched him with eyes which saw him my friend. I'll never forget
the moment I recognized him from what had been told me of his
crouch before the draw. It was then I yelled his name. I believe
that yell saved Tull's life. At any rate, I know this, between
Tull and death then there was not the breadth of the littlest