too much to beg—that—that we do not discuss that part of my life?"
Tish apologized at once. We could not tell, from what he said, whether he had been divorced or had lost them all from scarlet fever. Whichever it was, I must say he was not depressed for very long, although he had reason enough for depression, as we soon learned.
"It's like this," he said. "They know I'm here in the glen—the outlaws, I mean. The red-bearded man, Naysmith, has sworn to get me."
"Get you?" from Aggie.
"Shoot me. The other three all owe me grudges, too, but Naysmith's the worst. He's just out of the pen—I got him a ten-year sentence for this very thing, robbing an express car."
"Ten years!" I exclaimed. "You look as if you hadn't shaved in ten years!"
He looked at me and smiled.
"I'm older than you think," he said, "and, anyhow, he got a lot off for good behavior. It's outrageous, the discount that's given to a criminal for behaving himself. He got—I think I am right when I say—yes, he was sent up in '07—he got seven years off his sentence."
We all thought that this was a grave mistake, and Tish, whose father was once warden of the penitentiary, observed that there was nothing
