an inability to lucid expression, and the fear of being misunderstood in
regard to the most patent or equally the most unimportant details of his
speech. All of which, however, was in very remarkable contrast to his
perfectly clear and penetrating eyes.

Wayne gravely assured him that he was not interrupting him in any way.

"I often thought--that is, I had an idea, you understand what I mean--of
stoppin' in passing. You and me, you see, are sorter alike; we don't
seem to jibe in with the gin'ral gait o' the camp. You understand what I
mean? We ain't in the game, eh? You see what I'm after?"

Madison Wayne glanced half mechanically at McGee's revolver. McGee's
clear eyes at once took in the glance.

"That's it! You understand? You with them books of yours, and me with
my shootin' iron--we're sort o' different from the rest, and ought to be
kinder like partners. You understand what I mean? We keep this camp in
check. We hold a full hand, and don't stand no bluffing."

"If you mean there is some effect in Christian example and the life of a
God-fearing man"--began Madison gravely.

"That's it! God-fearin' or revolver-fearin', it amounts to the same when
you come down to the hard pan and bed-rock," interrupted McGee. "I ain't
expectin' you to think much of my style, but I go a heap on yours, even
if I can't play your game. And I sez to my wife, 'Safie'--her that trots
around with me sometimes--I sez, 'Safie, I oughter know that man, and
shall. And I WANT YOU to know him.' Hol' on," he added quickly, as
Madison rose with a flushed face and a perturbed gesture. "Ye don't