It don't do. I got to keep myself stiddy to do the trick when
the minute comes. At first I usen't to sleep at nights, thinkin' of
Clint, an' missin' him, an' I got shaky and no good. So I put a cinch on
myself, an' got to sleepin' again--from the full dusk to dawn, for Greevy
wouldn't take the trail at night. I've kept stiddy." He held out his
hand as though to show that it was firm and steady, but it trembled with
the emotion which had conquered him. He saw it, and shook his head
angrily.
"It was seein' you, Sinnet. It burst me. I ain't seen no one to speak
to in a month, an' with you sittin' there, it was like Clint an' me
cuttin' and comin' again off the loaf an' the knuckle-bone of ven'son."
Sinnet ran a long finger slowly across his lips, and seemed meditating
what he should say to the mountaineer. At length he spoke, looking into
Buckmaster's face. "What was the story Ricketts told you? What did your
boy tell Ricketts? I've heard, too, about it, and that's why I asked you
if you had proofs that Greevy killed Clint. Of course, Clint should
know, and if he told Ricketts, that's pretty straight; but I'd like to
know if what I heard tallies with what Ricketts heard from Clint.
P'r'aps it'd ease your mind a bit to tell it.
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