Drazk glanced at her curiously. This girl showed signs of leading him
out of his depth. But it was a very delightful sensation to feel one's
self being led out of his depth by such a girl. Her face was motionless;
her eyes fixed dreamily upon the brown prairies that swept up the flanks
of the foothills to the south. Far and away on their curving crests the
dark snake-line of Transley's outfit could be seen apparently motionless
on the rim of the horizon.

Drazk changed his foot on the rail and the motion brought him six inches
nearer her.

"Well, f'r instance," he said, spurring his imagination into action,
"there was the fellow I run down an' shot in the Cypress Hills."

"Shot!" she exclaimed, and the note of admiration in her voice stirred
him to further flights.

"Yep," he continued, proudly. "Shot an' buried him there, right by the
road where he fell. Only me an' that Pete-horse knows the spot."

George sighed sentimentally. "It's awful sad, havin' to kill a man,"
he went on, "an' it makes you feel strange an' creepy, 'specially at
nights. That is, the first one affects you that way, but you soon get
used to it. You see, he insulted--"

"The first one? Have you killed more than one?"

"Oh yes, lots of them. A man like me, what knocks around all over with
all sorts of people, has to do it.