an' we j'ined in fer to sell the land an' go West." His brooding eyes were
on the fire; his voice--which had halted before the words "my wife," then
taken them with a quick gulp--broke a little every time he said "she" or
"her." Kerry's heart jumped when he heard the mention of that little
Western farm--why, it might have been in the very locality he and Katy
looked longingly toward.

"That feller they sent down here fer to buy the ground--Dickert was his
name; you've hearn it, I reckon?"

Kerry recognized the murdered man's name. He nodded, without a word, his
little blue eyes helplessly fastened on Andy's eyes.

"Yes, Dickert 'twas. He was took with Euola from the time he put eyes on
her--which ain't sayin' more of him than of any man 'at see her. But a town
feller's hangin' round a mounting-gal hain't no credit to her. Euola she
was promised to me. But ef she hadn't 'a' been, she wouldn't 'a' took no
passin' o' bows an' complyments from that Dickert. I thort the nighest way
out on't was to tell the gentleman that her an' me was to be wed, an' that
we'd make the deeds as man an' wife, an' I done so."

Kerry looked at his host and wondered that any man should hope to tamper
with the affections of her who loved him.

"Wed we was," the mountain-man went on; and an imperceptible pause followed
the words. "We rid down to Garyville to be wed, an' we went from the
jestice's office to the office of this here Dickert. He had a cuss with him
that was no better'n him; an' when it come to the time in the signin' that
our names was put down, an' my wife was to be 'examined privately and
apart'--ez is right an' lawful--ez to whether I'd made her sign or not,