"Like it?"

"I don't lay much on it."

Supper was over and other subjects succeeded. The Pike County man
became social.

"Strangers," said he, "did you ever hear of the affair I had with
Jack Scott?"

"No," said Joshua. "Spin it off, will you?"

"Jack and me used to be a heap together. We went huntin' together,
camped out for weeks together, and was like two brothers. One day we
was ridin' out, when a deer started up fifty rods ahead. We both
raised our guns and shot at him. There was only one bullet into him,
and I knowed that was mine."

"How did you know it?" inquired Joshua.

"Don't you get curious, stranger. I knowed it, and that was enough.
But Jack said it was his. 'It's my deer,' he said, 'for you missed
your shot.' 'Look here, Jack,' said I, 'you're mistaken. You missed
it. Don't you think I know my own bullet?' 'No, I don't,' said he.
'Jack,' said I calmly, 'don't talk that way. It's dangerous.' 'Do
you think I'm afraid of you?' he said, turning on me. 'Jack,' said
I, 'don't provoke me. I can whip my weight in wildcats.' 'You can't
whip me,' said he. That was too much for me to stand. I'm the
Rip-tail Roarer from Pike County, Missouri, and no man can insult me
and live. 'Jack,' said I, 'we've been friends, but you've insulted