would have overwhelmed a snake. They were a hardy breed in Drumwell; the seat of their intelligence was confined to a very small area, but their vitality spread to the utmost fiber of their bodies.
But, as Waco Johnson said he hoped, if the lumber dealer wasn't killed he was cured of his crooked ways. While it would not have been advisable to leave one's pocket-book beside the track in Drumwell after his recovery, any more than it would be the wisest way to dispose of that repository of treasure at the present day, it was entirely safe to leave bones.
At a great price, with little to gain but the vindication of his manhood and the upholding of a principle, Tom Simpson had brought order and respect for the security of others to that border terminus of the Cherokee trails. He had only hastened the process of time, as most men do who correct injustices and oppressions which flourish in their day. Wisely or unwisely he had stood against the stream of popular inclination there and turned it back upon itself, and now he was suffering the pangs which are too frequently the only reward of principle upheld against the contumely of men.
Mrs. Meehan, mother of Eddie Kane's wife, was no strong partisan of her son-in-law. Eddie was too free with his fists when in his cups; she had carried many a piece of beefsteak under her eye to repair the discoloration of his blows. For that she could have forgiven him, as she had gone through a long training with Meehan and accepted such usage as a male prerogative as long as he had even a remote connection with the family. A man on the outside trying such a method of emphasis would have
