and pulling dead straight down the road and working hard and faithful.
But all the time I'd been saving up steam, and swelling and swelling and
getting pretty near ready to bust.

"Well, sirs, pretty soon--we was living in Garrison City them days, when
Garrison wasn't near the town that it is now--along comes word that Jack
Hollis is around. A lot of you younger folks ain't never heard nothing
about him. But in his day Jack Hollis was as bad as they was made. They
was nothing that Jack wouldn't turn to real handy, from shootin' up a
town to sticking up a train or a stage. And he done it all just about as
well. He was one of them universal experts. He could blow a safe as neat
as you'd ask. And if it come to a gun fight, he was greased lightning
with a flying start. That was Jack Hollis."

The sheriff paused to draw breath.

"Perhaps," said Elizabeth Cornish, white about the lips, "we had better
go into the living room to hear the rest of the sheriff's story?"

It was not a very skillful diversion, but Elizabeth had reached the point
of utter desperation. And on the way into the living room unquestionably
she would be able to divert Terry to something else. Vance held his
breath.

And it was Terry who signed his own doom.

"We're very comfortable here, Aunt Elizabeth. Let's not go in till the
sheriff has finished his story."

The sheriff rewarded him with a flash of gratitude, and Vance settled