"It's some different, I figger."
"Tell me!"
"If Black Bart died--"
The wolf-dog whined, hearing his name.
"Good ol' Bart! Well, if Black Bart died maybe I'd some day have
another dog I'd like almost as much."
"Yes."
"An' if Satan died--even Satan!--maybe I could sometime like another
hoss pretty well--if he was a pile like Satan! But if you was to
die--it'd be different, a considerable pile different."
"Why?"
His pauses to consider these questions were maddening.
"I don't know," he muttered at last.
Once more she was thankful for the dark to hide her smile.
"Maybe you know the reason, Kate?"
Her laughter was rich music. His hold on her hand relaxed. He was
thinking of a new theme. When he laughed in turn it startled her. She
had never heard that laugh before.
"What is it, Dan?"
"He was pretty big, Kate. He was bigger'n almost any man I ever seen!
It was kind of funny. After he hit me I was almost glad. I didn't hate
him--"
"Dear Dan!"
"I didn't hate him--I jest nacherally wanted to kill him--and wantin'
to do that made me glad. Isn't that funny, Kate?"
He spoke of it as a chance traveller might point out a striking
feature of the landscape to a companion.
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