and patted his big brown hand with her crooked, mittened fingers while
her son spake.

"I says this," he said, looking squarely into the eyes of the other
man, "that if I was in your place I'd follow it. If I was a drunken,
desp'rate character, without shame or hope, I'd follow it. If I was in
your place and you was in mine I'd say: 'Marshal, I'm willin' to swear
if you'll give me the chance I'll quit the racket. I'll drop the
tanglefoot and the gun play, and won't play hoss no more. I'll be a
good citizen and go to work and quit my foolishness. So help me God!'
That's what I'd say to you if you was marshal and I was in your
place."

"Hear my son talkin'," said the old woman softly. "Hear him, sir. You
promise to be good and he won't do you no harm. Forty-one year ago his
heart first beat ag'in' mine, and it's beat true ever since."

The other man rose to his feet, trying his limbs and stretching his
muscles.

"Then," said he, "if you was in my place and said that, and I was
marshal, I'd say: 'Go free, and do your best to keep your promise.'"

"Lawsy!" exclaimed the old woman, in a sudden flutter, "ef I didn't
clear forget that trunk of mine! I see a man settin' it on the
platform jest as I seen son's face in the window, and it went plum out
of my head. There's eight jars of home-made quince jam in that trunk
that I made myself. I wouldn't have nothin' happen to them jars for a
red apple."